


Nights of Silence, Dawn of Chaos.

by IceTalon



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Slash, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceTalon/pseuds/IceTalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate Fick and Brad Colbert; one is a three hundred year old Werewolf, the other a Recon Marine with an icy reputation. Their paths paralleled shortly before the invasion of Iraq, but they will become irrevocably intertwined through tragedy. Attacked in the middle of night, Brad is turned against his will and Nate and his Progeny, Ray, are left to pick up the pieces. But, through the darkness, a light shines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nights of Silence, Dawn of Chaos.

 

 

The desert at night was cold. Almost bone-chillingly so. Brad had no complaints, though. He'd always enjoyed the cold, always thrived in situations where the circumstances were stacked against him from the get-go. Not this time. The newly-named Operation Iraqi Freedom was a goatfuck from day damn one. They were set up for disaster before they even left Camp Mathilda. **  
  
**That's why, two days before they were scheduled to fly home and a day's drive from the air base, Brad found himself skulking around the edge of the area where they had stopped for the night, patrolling for anything out of the ordinary. And here, that meant just about everything. His footsteps were silent, and he moved swiftly, relieved not to have to worry about the the swish of treated plastic from their MOPP suits. **  
  
**The full moon cast long shadows on the ground and turned the sand silver. Brad stopped himself on top of a berm. Further out, glaring at him from the shadows of another berm, was a pair of gleaming silver eyes. They flashed with killing intent, and Brad brought his M-4 to level, gazing down the scope. **  
  
“** Savannah!” **  
  
**Brad shouted the challenge and his voice cracked in the night sky, reverberating off the berms around him. The watching eyes narrowed as Brad awaited a reply, but nothing happened. **  
  
“** Savannah!” he shouted again, and still there was no answer. Brad had permission to shoot non-responders on sight, so he placed his finger on the trigger. **  
  
“** Savannah!” One last try. No answer. Brad pulled the trigger and the suppressed shot sped through the night. **  
  
**The eyes were gone, but there was no indication he'd hit his target. No thud as a body hit the ground. No cry of pain as a bullet sliced through flesh and muscle. Brad lowered his weapon slightly, but only enough to peer out into the night. **  
  
**He didn't see his attacker until it was too late. **  
  
**He was thrown to the ground, and his gun slid away. The attack left him momentarily disoriented, but it was more than enough time for his assailant to pin him face first into the sand, hands above his head. Brad bucked and snarled, but his attacker held on with tremendous strength. **  
  
**After a few more seconds of futile struggling, Brad fell still underneath the assailant, but he was by no means giving up. He sucked in another breath and was about to call for assistance when his opponent’s hold shifted. He pulled Brad up and wrapped his legs around Brad's, locking them in place while one arm snaked around his chest and the other pressed over his mouth. **  
  
“** Nuh-uh. None of that now.” The voice was dark and smoky, and Brad couldn't suppress a shiver when he felt that the hand across his mouth was covered in something sift and silky, something  almost furry, and that the nails pressed into his cheek were sharper than his Ka-Bar. _Claws,_ his mind supplied silently and he struggled uselessly against the restraining arms. **  
  
**He was brought up short when something cold and wet brushed against the back of his neck. **  
  
“** The infamous Brad Colbert, trapped by little ol' me. No one will ever believe this.” **  
  
**Brad tensed. The attacker knew him. That meant he was familiar with Brad's reputation. That meant he was almost certainly military. **  
  
“** You know how, in the movies, they say, **“** _Meet your maker”_? That line's a little convoluted for me. But, well, the meaning still stands.” **  
  
**Brad's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as his attacker growled. White hot pain shot through his neck and all Brad knew was darkness. **  
  
**

 

**  
**Brad woke with an ache in his neck and sand in his mouth. His consciousness came back with a snap and he sat straight up with a ragged growl. His gun lay a few feet away and his uniform shirt had ridden up. Brad reached for the back of his neck with a shaky hand and felt for wounds. **  
  
**There was nothing. **  
  
**Brad clenched his teeth as he checked himself all over for any sign of his encounter with the midnight assailant. There was nothing that indicated the attack was anything more than a bad dream. A reaction to his exhaustion. **  
  
**A hallucination. **  
  
**Brad staggered to his feet and stepped over to where his gun was lying, picking it up and discharging the magazine. It was missing a bullet. Brad sighed and rolled his eyes. He really had no answer for it. His body bore no signs of the attack, but his gun showed signs of use that he couldn't account for. **  
  
**For now, Brad was going to chalk it up to a belated combat stress reaction and vowed to watch himself closely for other symptoms. He checked his watch. Only a few minutes had passed since he'd shot at air, or what he assumed was air with a pair of eyes, his brain helpfully supplied. He shook himself bodily one last time in an attempt to shake some sense into himself. **  
  
**Iceman persona firmly in place, Brad returned to his men, intent on forgetting the last fifteen minutes. **  
  
**

 

**  
**Nate was perched atop a berm, looking about him with a sharpness bred through years and years of training, none of it military. He had more than just his platoon to look after. Scattered around all these deployed Marines, Recon and otherwise, were his wolves. **  
  
**Dozens from the Ocean Freeze Pack of Oceanside were in Iraq; some were too far away for Nate to do more then send a messenger back and forth every few days when they were close enough together that a Marine wouldn't be missed. Already he had ten families to notify and ten Final Rights ceremonies to perform when they got stateside. He was pathetically glad they'd be home in a few days and his men and his wolves would be safe. **  
  
**His attention caught at the sound of a shift somewhere nearby, and he realized his messenger had returned. He stood up straighter and waited patiently as a relaxed sergeant approached him, smiling a little too brightly for Nate's liking. Something was amiss. **  
  
“** Sergeant Messier. What's the news?” he asked, steeping back as he was joined by the other man on the berm. **  
  
“** Everything is as it should be, Lieutenant Fick. Even the baby wolves are holding up. Everyone's anxious to be home, though. There's been no time for them to go running. You can imagine what most everyone's plans are the minute we're back on base.” Nate nodded in understanding. **  
  
**To shift and run at least once a month was compulsion most wolves got to indulge. Although there had been chances at Mathilda for them to do so, they'd been far and few in between. Nate had done his best to create excuses the younger wolves in the three Recon platoons to shift, if even for only thirty minutes, but those opportunities were even harder to come by. There was really no reason for Nate to be going around and randomly collecting marines for tasks. **  
  
“** No more casualties to report?” he asked, receiving a response in the negative as his answer. “This is good news. Good work, Messier.”  Just as Nate was about to turn around and dismiss the sergeant, a warm breeze carried a familiar scent to him. Nate's nostrils flared and his lip curled.   **  
  
“** Why do you smell of Sergeant Colbert and blood, Messier?” he asked, a horrible sinking feeling in in his stomach. Messier froze, and the blood drained from his face as he cast his eyes downward. **  
  
“** Is that Nate or Pack Alpha Fick asking?” The shamed question was all the answer Nate needed, and he whirled on Messier with a clenched fist. The strike sent the sergeant to the ground, and Nate stood over him, growling lowly. The bruise from the punch was already healing. Messier refused to meet his eyes, hoping the show of submission would calm Nate. **  
  
“** You _fucking idiot!_ It's supposed to be a choice, Messier! A choice! He doesn't even know we exist, let alone have the necessary information to make an informed decision. Do you know what kind of shitstorm you just brought on the Pack? On yourself?” he hissed, ever aware that someone might stumble upon them. **  
  
“** I-I'll be a good Forebearer to him, I promise!” Messier whispered.Nate groaned low in his chest, a near agonized sound. Their argument had drawn a spectator, and Nate looked over to see Ray staring at Messier with wide, angry eyes. **  
  
“** His Forebearer?! You grade A, dumbfuck asshole! You'll be lucky if the Council lets you keep your teeth, let alone remain part of the Pack! You're not gonna be his Forebearer!” Ray seethed. **  
  
**Nate sighed heavily. He'd been Pack Alpha for nearly seventy-five years, and he'd never had to perform a banishing ceremony before. If it happened, Messier, one of his most trusted Pack members, would be his first. **  
  
**Nate stepped back to allow Messier to his feet and stared him down. “Return to your Humvee, sergeant. I have a mess to clean up.” **  
  
**

 

**  
**Ray approached Nate with uncharacteristic caution, silent for the first time in a while. Nate was leaning against the side of the Humvee he'd spent the last month and some days in, rubbing his face tiredly and looking over a sheath of handwritten notes. “I see you skulking over there, Ray. Come here, I won't bite. Promise,” he said, attempting levity and falling flat. Ray came to stand next to him and looked at the notes in Nate's hands, wincing.  
  
 **“** How many total?” he asked, afraid of the answer.  
  
 **“** Twenty-six, wounded or dead.” Nate whispered in response, clenching the papers tightly. “Eleven dead, six permanently maimed, six at Landstuhl Regional in Germany and three are walking wounded.” It pained Nate to recite those numbers. Those were his wolves.  
  
 **“** Fucking Christ, Nate.” Ray sounded like Nate felt: tired, on the verge of collapse, upset. All Nate could do was nod as he folded the papers and stuck them inside his pants pocket before turning to Ray, putting on his Alpha face.  
  
 **“** How's Brad holding up, Ray?” They'd have to keep a close eye on Brad until after the council made its ruling. Normally, for a wolf Messier's age, it took about two months for the magic to take hold in a human, but any undue stress could force Brad's first shift.  
  
 **“** He's fine. A little jumpier than we're used to seeing the Iceman, but the wolves in Bravo already know what's happened, so they're explaining his jumpiness as excitement to be home with his bike. It's working really well so far actually.” Nate nodded.  
  
 **“** I'll have to alert the medics at Pendleton, start the process of getting Brad his Equilibrium Leave, and submit his paperwork with Colonel Marano so he knows he has another Were running around his base he needs to keep track of. Are you still going back to Missouri when your discharge papers go through?” he asked.  
  
Ray shook his head. “I was. And then Messier went and did this. I'm not leaving Brad now of all times. I may act like it sometimes, but I'm not stupid. He may be adaptable, but he's gonna have trouble wrapping that brain of his around this goatfuck, and as much as he preaches that modern psychology has no effect on the Iceman, he's gonna want people he semi-trusts close by. You, me and Rudy are gonna have a lot on our hands in a few months, Nate.”  
  
Nate nodded slowly. “Ray, when I Changed you, you wanted to, right? I never forced you?” he asked in a moment of insecurity. Messier's mistake in forcing Brad to become one of them had brought up old doubts. Nate was Forebearer to two Weres, Ray and another who had moved to Wisconsin five years after his Change, where he was now a soldier with the U.S Army at Fort McCoy.  
  
 **“** You didn’t force me or Alex, Nate. Sure I acted like a little bitch for the first year or so, but so do most baby wolves if you'll remember. If we went back in time and I was given a chance, I'd still say yes. So would Alex, I'm sure. I mean, seriously, he writes every other week. If he hated you, would he do that?”  
  
Nate chuckled lightly and shook his head, almost as if he were physically trying to shake off his unease. “Right. You're right.” He said. “Come on, let's get back over by the others. They should be calling for boarding soon and then we can leave.”  
 **  
**

 

**  
**It had been two weeks since they'd returned to Pendleton, and in that time Nate had been burning the candle at both ends. His days were occupied cleaning out his desk, settling last minute business, and giving his best last pep talks to his platoon. His nights were filled with Pack business: checking on his injured wolves, contacting the families of the deceased, usually after the military did, and performing the Last Rights ceremony eleven different times.  
  
When the paperwork for him and Ray to be discharged went through, they were both only too happy to pack a few days worth of clothes, pile into Nate's SUV and make tracks for his second home in Sorensens. Ray slept for the first half of the trip, and when Nate stopped for gas in Avenal, he was rested enough to take the wheel and allow Nate a chance to rest.  
  
The house, a few miles outside the actual village of Sorensens, was in the style of a log home and Nate was proud to inform anyone who asked that most of it was built by his own hand over fifty years ago. Everything inside had been modernized, and the second story had been added later with the help of a crane and some very good contractors.  
  
Inside was impeccable despite his long absence from the property, and Nate knew he owed his sister a big thanks. Very few people knew about the place, in or out of the pack, and Nate's sister was an Omega from a pack out east, which meant she would have heard about the casualties the Ocean Freeze Pack had suffered and, in an attempt to make life easier for Nate, she'd cleaned the cabin.  
  
 **“** Same rules as always, Ray. Back guest room is yours. Don't leave fur on my furniture and don't track mud on my carpets. And be ready to go to conclave with me, probably tomorrow. I'm expecting their call soon.”  
  
Ray nodded and hefted his bag to his shoulder before meandering down the hall. Nate did the same, but he went up a flight of stairs and down a hall to a pair of double doors.  
  
He pushed these open and walked inside, sighing happily. His master suite was something to be envied. Dark blue painted walls with gray wooden trim that looked weather worn and carpet to match. He threw his bag on the floor and opened it, pulling out a pair basketball shorts with a slit in the back. He shucked of his other clothes and began to shift.  
  
Shifting, for him, felt natural, but looked terrifying. His body grew and flexed in some parts and in others lengthened and became compact, all of this accompanied by the sounds of muscles snapping and reconnecting and bones groaning under pressure. It didn't hurt after the first few times, but newbies were always more frightened by the sounds than the pain. Once he was done shifting he grabbed the shorts and slipped them on, making sure his tail fit through the slit in the back, before looking at himself in the mirror.  
  
In the Werewolf mythology of the human race, there were three main kinds of Werewolves. The Native Americans told stories of great warriors who took on the forms of wolves after they proved themselves truly honorable or when they passed away. Pop culture depicted Werewolves as blood thirsty beasts, hunched over the corpses of their victims at every full moon, any human emotion or though erased during every transformation.  
  
And then, there were the Werewolves of reality, actuality. Little more than anthropomorphized wolves gifted with greater strength, speed and lifespan than any human. And thumbs. Nate was inordinately pleased when he found out he would get to keep his thumbs. And his ability to talk. With a tall, sturdy, two-legged upright form, many Werewolves carried themselves with the dignity of their centuries of living.  
  
His gray fur was sleek as ever, his ivory teeth and claws sharp as thorns. He and the other Weres had obsessively groomed each other after coming back stateside until everyone was back in tiptop shape again.  
  
Even shifted, Nate could see the effects the desert had had on him. Weres as a whole were both taller and more muscular than their human forms once shifted. Nate had lost much of the muscle definition around his chest and abdomen, and his arms and legs. His shorts were dangerously close to falling down and his face held a gaunt appearance.  
  
There was a knock at his doors before he heard them open and Ray strode in, already shifted. Ray had always been wiry, since the day Nate had Changed him, and he'd had less muscle than the other wolves. What Ray lacked in strength, though, he made up for in speed. But the desert had been harsh to Ray too. Wiry was now downright skinny, and Nate knew they were in serious need of several large meals.  
  
 **“** How many beef quarters am I thawing?” he asked teasingly. Ray flipped him off with a snicker.  
 **  
**

 

**  
**The cave where the Council chose to hold conclave was in the most obscure, impossible to reach unless you had four legs place Nate had seen in a decade, easily. He and Ray pushed their way through thorn-filled underbrush, pulled themselves up steep hillsides, and had a quick swim through a very cold stream. **  
  
**Finally they arrived at the mouth of the cave and rose back onto their legs, shaking out the worst of the debris that clung to their fur. Inside was lit dimly, and Nate was almost certain that the Council had lit a fire inside. The dark stone gave way to packed earth, and it was then that Nate realized they were inside the hill. **  
  
**Sitting around a small fire were four other wolves, who looked more than happy to have Nate and Ray in their presence. One of the wolves on the far left rose to his feet and walked forward, his dappled fur almost shimmering in the firelight. “Pack Alpha Fick. So good to see you again,” he rumbled. Nate smiled in response, his tail wagging shortly before falling still. **  
  
“** Councilman Marshall. I only wish it was under more pleasant circumstances.” He shook hands with the councilman before plodding over to shake hands with the other three, greeting them in turn. “Councilwoman Ashland, Councilman Goulde, Councilwoman Bartlett, a pleasure to see you all again. You'll have to forgive my haste,  but I bid you that we proceed. We've much to discuss this evening, unfortunately.” **  
  
**The Council agreed to his request and, after letting Ray greet the Council with his usual enthusiasm, those that were standing took seats around the fire. “So, Alpha Fick, tell us. What has you calling us for conclave so shortly after returning from war? From what we hear, the Final Rights ceremonies went as planned and you've received no undue attention in your time overseas.” **  
  
**Nate took a deep breath before he spoke. “A few days before we left Iraq, one of my Pack members broke the cardinal rule, and bit another Marine without permission.” There was a moment of stunned silence and the Council looked at Nate with unnerved expressions. **  
  
“** Who, Alpha Fick?” Councilman Goulde asked. **  
  
“** Messier. I sent him to check on the other wolves, because I wanted to make sure everyone was holding together so close to going home. He took longer than usual, and when he returned, I smelt the other Marine and blood all over him. After I questioned him, Messier admitted to biting him.” Silence permeated the cave again. **  
  
“** The bitten?” Goulde prompted. **  
  
“** Sergeant Bradley Colbert,” Nate answered. “I have a request of the Council. I know Messier's fate. He broke the laws and will be banished as soon as the whole Clan is able to be convened. But I would not leave Brad without a mentor, with his Forebearer banished. He's a friend of Ray and myself, and we'd like to split mentoring responsibilities.” From his side Ray nodded and the Council seemed relieved. **  
  
“** How old are you, Raymond?” Councilwoman Bartlett asked. **  
  
“** Eighty-five, ma'am. That's including human years,” he responded. **  
  
“** You recently put in a request to become the Forebearer of a....Walter Hasser. Are you going to be able to handle the responsibilities of two baby wolves at once?” she asked. Ray sighed, looking put out for a minute. **  
  
“** Walt has decided to wait a bit longer. So yes, I can handle the responsibilities of mentoring Brad while educating Walt on his future.” Bartlett nodded, seemingly pleased with Ray's answer. The Council seemed to share a significant glance with each other before returning their attention to Nate and Ray. **  
  
“** Permission granted. The Council agree that having this new wolf be mentored by two people he knows and trusts would be in his best interests. We trust that, if he knows nothing of our kind, you and Ray will do your best to educate him in short order in such a way as to not shock him too horribly. As for Messier. Is he unattached, Alpha Fick?” **  
  
“** As far as I've seen, he is unattached to mate, child or job. He discharged from the Marines when Ray and I did.” More nodding. Nate was getting anxious. **  
  
“** Then this Council gives you the power not only to banish him from the Ocean Freeze Pack, but from the state of California as well.” Nate froze for a minute. Being given the power to banish a Werewolf from not only the Pack, but from the state as well, was nothing to sneeze at. **  
  
“** As you wish, so shall it be done.” **  
  
**

  
**  
**Nate and Ray stayed at the cabin for a few days longer before Nate's Pack duties called them both back to Oceanside. With the Werewolves that had been injured or maimed in the fighting fully healed, Nate called his Pack to meet at the usual spot in Cleveland National Forest. **  
  
**Nate and Ray arrived before everyone else and made their way to the clearing where the Pack always met. The ground was sun-warmed, and they both were only too happy to sprawl on their sides under the night air, pleased when their resting place held the warmth well into the dusk hours. **  
  
**Slowly, a few at a time, wolves began to appear, in every size and color, from the dark hulking form of Nate's Beta, Johnathan, to the whip-like light gray leanness of one of the baby wolves. Ray went off to mingle with the others while Nate assumed his spot on a rocky outcropping on the hillside and looked below at his pack. **  
  
**Still almost fifty strong, an outsider would never know that losses the Ocean Freeze Pack had suffered only weeks before. Some stood upright, holding more subdued than usual conversation, while the younger wolves still rocketed about on all fours, playing games of tag and keep away. One would think that for wolves that could stand on their back legs and walk and talk like humans, who for all intents and purposes were humanoid wolves, running around on all fours would graceless, awkward and hard. But their movement was fluid, beautiful. They moved about with the ease and grace of normal wolves. Nate couldn't help his chuckle, though. That grace was not inborn, and the first few shifts were always that hardest, what with tripping over branches and your own feet. **  
  
**Finally, when Nate was sure every wolf but Messier was present, he called the Pack to order. Below him they converged on his location and made a sort of loose formation, almost as if they were getting ready to march somewhere. The underbrush behind them rustled, and Messier's dark gray form appeared. He sat a few feet away from the rest of the Pack, and Nate rose to address the group as a whole. **  
  
“** Members of the Ocean Freeze Pack, I've called you here tonight to witness the banishing of Jason Messier. He broke one of our cardinal rules and bit a human against his will.” There was a discontent and angry rumbling from the gathered wolves below, and Nate let them quiet down on their own. “What say you in your defense, Messier?” he asked calmly, looking down on him with pointed green eyes. **  
  
“** Nothing, Alpha Fick,” Messier replied miserably. **  
  
“** The Council orders you banned from the state, if you wish to keep your teeth.” There was a ripple in the crowd as Nate spoke, but he only spoke louder to be heard above the din. “As Pack Alpha, I strip you of your rank as High Omega. I strip you of your True Name. I strip you of your ties to this Pack. We no longer acknowledge your status as Werewolf. We no longer hunt with you. We no longer run with you on the nights of Artemis' Moon.” **  
  
**As he spoke, the wolves below him said Messier's True Name, the name given to him after his Coming of Age ceremony, spat on the ground, and turned their backs on him. Messier seemed to wilt as each wolf did so, and when the last wolf had done so and faced the hillside, he looked destroyed. **  
  
“** As Pack Alpha, I banish you.” Then he, too, spoke Messier's True Name, spat upon the outcropping and turned his back, facing the hill with steadfast eyes. **  
  
**

 

**  
**Nate and the Pack were subdued for a few days after that. Banishment was not a punishment to be taken lightly. Messier's name was never spoken again. A few days later, Ray arrived at Nate's house, carrying two chilled bottles of Pepsi and a huge pizza box baring the name of Nate's favorite pizza place. **  
  
“** We need to take care of the Brad situation. Tonight. It's been nearly a month since he was bitten, and we need to get him ready.” Nate nodded, once again glad he'd Changed Ray all those years back. Ray had been a blossoming Philosophy student at a university on the east coast when Nate had stumbled on him some sixty years ago. Ray was much smarter than he acted. **  
  
“** Right. Let me get some shoes and a pair of shorts and we'll go,” he said. Ray remained leaning against his door jamb while Nate ran inside to his bedroom. He threw open a dresser drawer that held the shorts he wore when he was shifted and grabbed out a black pair before closing the drawer and returning to the entryway. He slipped on his sneakers and followed Ray outside. **  
  
**They agreed to take Nate's car, in case Brad had to come back with them for one reason or another. Ray slid the food in the back and then put himself in the driver's seat. **  
  
“** LT, all due respect, you drive like a blind-ass fucking grandma and you don't even know where Brad's goddamned house is. So shut up and get in the car. We're burning nightlight here.” **  
  
**Nate rolled his eyes but assented and ended up in the passenger seat, grumbling at Ray in only half-irritation as he buckled himself in. **  
  
“** So how are we gonna do this? There's really no good way to do this without shocking him completely. And who knows, this _is_ Brad we're talking about. Maybe he'll try to stab us.” **  
  
**Nate gaped at Ray for a minute and was about to say something when he stopped himself. Brad's capacity for violence had yet to be fully realized. Usually when someone messed with Brad, they were on the receiving end of his razor-sharp tongue. This, however, was a completely different situation, with different stimuli and different variables. How would someone like Brad react to coming face to face with a very large wolf? **  
  
“** Well, if we can get him distracted enough, maybe with a movie, or get him talking about one of his computers or his bike, one of us can slip off to the bathroom, shift, and come back. Then we attempt not to get stabbed or shot. If we keep him contained to the house, he just might hear us out. It's worth a shot, isn't it?” Ray nodded in agreement and they spent the rest of the drive in comfortable silence. **  
  
**Brad's house was, predictably, by the beach, and the slight chill coming off the water lifted the hairs on Nate's arm as they approached the door. Thankfully the pizza had stayed hot and the Pepsi cold and Nate was left to juggle all three while Ray strode to the door, yelling at the top of his lungs for Brad to open the door or he'd begin to sing. Suffice to say that the door opened quickly. Brad was dressed in a pair of board shorts and a nearly threadbare t-shirt, bare feet slapping the concrete as he leveled Ray with a wholly unimpressed stare. **  
  
“** Person, what the fuck is your whiskey tango retarded ass doing on my porch? I thought I made it perfectly clear that if you showed up here again that I would gut you with your own Ka-Bar and string your guts from here to the base?” Ray just beamed at him. **  
  
“** Aww don't be like that to your old buddy Ray-Ray. I brought food! And the LT!” That earned him a slap on the back of the head, which earned Brad a completely exaggerated account on how he was “an abusive, emotionally stunted, retard giant who was never getting any more presents from his dearest Ray-Ray”. **  
  
**Nate simply watched with an amused expression as the two other man swatted and yelled at each other for a few more minutes until he cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself. “Pizza's getting cold,” he said mildly, trying not to smile too widely and give away his amusement to the situation. Ray rolled his eyes, but Brad nodded lightly and stepped aside to allow Nate entrance into his house. **  
  
“** Just set it on the coffee table, sir. It’s the only clear spot in the house right now.” Nate snorted and turned on Brad with a wryly amused expression on his face. **  
  
“** It's not “sir” anymore Brad. Nate will suffice,” he said warmly. Brad gave him an incredulous look for a minute before shaking his head. **  
  
“** Sure thing, sir.” ****

Nate snorted again and moved to the coffee table and set the pizza box down, setting the bottles next to it. “Cups are in the kitchen,” Brad said from behind him, and Nate watched Ray scurry off in that general direction. He returned a few seconds later with three plastic cups, which he set on the table. Brad cleared off his couch and the recliner, both of which were occupied by spare computer parts, a whetstone and Brad's Ka-Bar and, in the case of the recliner, a surfboard that was only half waxed. Brad stuffed most of those things into milk crates, sheathed the knife and set the board against the wall. **  
  
**Before long, they were all filled with pizza and soda, and Nate and Brad were facing off in Halo, with Nate ahead by nearly twenty points. With Brad so immersed in trying to catch up to Nate, it gave Ray the opportunity to move away to the door. “Left my phone in the car. Nate, keys please.” Nate tossed Ray the keys with a nod, while Brad merely made a sound of assent as if to acknowledge that Ray was leaving. **  
  
**Nate did his part by keeping Brad's eyes off the door while simultaneously proving to him who was the better Halo player. When the door opened, neither of them looked up at first, but eventually Ray's silence, instead of the constant ramble he'd kept up so far, drew Brad's gaze away from the screen. **  
  
**Nate had seen many reactions to revelations before in his nearly two hundred years. He'd seen terror and surprise, shock and anger, even apathy and laughter. Brad though, like always, surprised Nate. And not in a good way. All the blood drained from Brad's face and he seemed to freeze for a minute, uncertain of what to do. Then, with a roar, he chucked the controller at Ray, bolted to his feet and grabbed the Ka-Bar from the table. **  
  
**He was on Nate in seconds, unsheathed knife pressed to the tender skin of his throat. Nate acted on instinct and, using his superior strength, got his legs up against Brad's stomach and kangaroo kicked him off the couch. The Ka-Bar went sliding away, and Brad was tossed bodily to the ground. He skidded a few inches from the sheer force of the kick before struggling to his feet, gripping his middle. Nate's kick had been a little too hard for Brad's still human body to handle. **  
  
**Staring at Ray and Nate for a minute, he seemed to make a decision and turned on his heel and bolted for the door. Ray waited for the order, primed to go after him. “Gently, Ray. But don't let him get too far.” Ray nodded and Nate almost missed when he grabbed a pair of Plasticuffs from his shorts pockets. Apparently Ray was a little more prepared for this eventuality than Nate had been. **  
  
**Nate rose from the couch and made for the front door, keeping his ears on the scuffle starting outside. Brad refused to call out for help from his neighbors who, even though the houses here were further apart than normal, would hear him. For this, Nate was grateful. They didn't need to be enacting another cover-up. **  
  
**Nate returned to his car and grabbed his own shorts before ducking back into the house. From the sounds outside, Ray was making easy work of subduing the slightly injured Brad without further incident, and they'd be back inside in a few minutes. Nate stepped into the restroom, stripped, and shifted. Making sure he looked as nonthreatening as possible, which is really hard to do when you're a nearly eight foot tall Werewolf, he slipped into his own shorts and reentered the hallway. **  
  
**From the living room there came the sounds of claws on hardwood, and Nate knew Ray was back inside. When Nate joined them in the living room, Ray had Brad on the couch, clawed hands holding his shoulders down against the back of the couch. Brad actually looked a little frightened of Nate, who was larger than Ray, when he came closer. Nate felt bad for him. **  
  
“** Sorry about the Plasticuffs, Brad. I honestly didn't think you'd try to kill us. Ray. You were right. Good job planning ahead.” Ray simply nodded, content for once to let Nate do the talking. Nate took a seat on the edge of the coffee table so he was sitting right in front of Brad. **  
  
“** Are you here to finish what the other guy started?” Brad asked angrily, but Nate was able to pick up the faint tremor, the undercurrent of fear. He shared a shocked look with Ray over Brad's head. **  
  
“** Sweet fucking jumped up Christ on a cracker, Brad! You think we're here to _kill you_!?” Ray asked, gobsmacked. Nate just shook his head. **  
  
“** _No._ Jesus fuck, Brad, _no._ We’re not here to kill you. What the fuck gave you that idea?” he asked, running a clawed hand over his ears in an abstract combination of upset, anger and morbid fascination. Why on the green earth would Brad think they were here to kill him? It hit Nate like a ton of bricks. Messier had attacked Brad in the middle of the night, shifted. He probably hadn't been nice about it either. **  
  
“** Brad, we're not here to kill you. We're not here to hurt you either. We're here because you were attacked and bitten against your will by one of the wolves in my Pack. You've been infected by a werewolf.” Brad sat in stunned silence for a minute, looking at Nate as if he was an insane person before he closed his gaping mouth. **  
  
“** Werewolf?” he asked, looking almost sick. Nate nodded. He motioned Ray to step away for a minute and stood up himself, helping Brad to his feet and turning him around. He used his claws to remove the Plasticuffs. Brad turned himself around and sat down with a heavy thump, placing his head in his hands. Nate and Ray were silent, letting Brad absorb the information they'd just dumped on him, willingly waiting for him. **  
  
“** I'm gonna be a Werewolf?” he asked, and Nate felt bad when he noticed that the tremor in his voice had become easily audible. He sounded smaller, frightened almost, with none of the Iceman calm present. He sat back down, this time next to Brad, and placed his large hand on Brad's knee. **  
  
“** I'm sorry, but yes. You have a month of normal human living left before you'll have your first shift.” A shiver shook Brad's body. As far as reactions went, so far this was pretty mild, despite the attempted stabbing. Brad sat still for a minute longer before he pushed Nate's hand from his knee and stood up, turning luminous blue eyes on both wolves. **  
  
“** Werewolves?” he asked, a hint of incredulity slipping into his voice. He couldn’t deny they were real, because two of them were sitting in front of him, but he was fighting the very human reaction of disbelief. Ray nodded from his spot against the wall. **  
  
“** Werewolves,” he intoned back lightly, smirking at Brad and pointing to Nate and himself as if showing off a pair of new cars. Nate rolled his eyes when all Ray did was chuckle at Brad’s snort of disbelief. “We are the stuff of legends.” _That_ got a short burst of laughter from both men, and Nate grinned. Leave it to Ray to break the tension in a room. **  
  
“** Look, Brad, we know this is a lot to take in. Something that was the subject of scary stories and bad late night movies is suddenly a very real prospect. Many people you’ve been serving with for the past few years are actually Werewolves. You’d be surprised how many of us there actually are scattered about the military. Ray, what was the last estimated number of Werewolves in the US Military, all branches?” he asked, trying to draw Brad’s mind away from the fact that there were two Werewolves sitting in his living room by giving him some facts to mull over for a few minutes. **  
  
“** All told? I don’t know. Fifty thousand, I think.” Brad seemed stunned by this information, and Ray continued. “Most of us are in SpecOps, with the highest concentration in the Navy SEALs and Delta Force, but there’s a fair number of us in Recon. Being in SpecOps allows us a chance to use our enhanced speed and strength, while keeping with the military werewolf motto. ‘Known, but hidden.’ Sounds fucking cheesy, but it’s true.” **  
  
“** How did you two serve, then? Don't you guys transform at the full moon or something?” Brad almost sounded indignant. That, plus the absurdity of the question, sent Ray into a fit of laughter long and loud. He clutched his stomach and bent double. Nate simply waited until he had laughed himself out while simultaneously struggling to keep the smile off his face at his Progeny's reaction and the absolutely _adorable_ look of miffed irritation on Brad's face. **  
  
**Once Ray had settled himself down and had reigned in his laughter, Nate set about explaining themselves to Brad. “First of all, not everything you read about in mythology and see in movies is real. We do not have to shift at the full moon. In fact, as you can see, we can shift whenever we want. Silver hurts us, but the only way to kill a Werewolf is to decapitate them or shoot a silver bullet through the heart. Only the heart. We're allergic to certain plants and chemicals. And we can't eat chocolate. It makes us sick as, well, sick as dogs. Pardon the pun.” **  
  
**Ray chuckled and Nate knew why. No one ever believed them about the chocolate. **  
  
“** As for us serving in the military. That is a story I'd be happy to tell you, but you might want to sit down and get comfortable, it's kind of a long story.” Brad looked at Nate cautiously, almost as if he still expected him to spring forward and rip out his throat, before he took a seat a few feet away from both wolves in the recliner. Nate took a deep breath before he began. **  
  
“** About ten years ago, a small contingent of Delta Force operators was sent to an undisclosed location to retrieve some classified information. Back then, intelligence gathering was not as good as it today, so the report that the operators received that said there would be minimal resistance when they reached said undisclosed location was faulty. When they got there, they were immediately pinned down. Well, after a few hours of a stalemate, something went wrong, and two of the contingent were shot and killed.” Brad was leaning forward by now, interested in what this had to do with Werewolves in the military. **  
  
“** When he saw his teammates go down and he noticed the fact that they stood very little chance of getting out alive if reinforcements didn't get there soon, one of the men, a Werewolf, shifted and used his speed and strength to take out the enemy. When he came back to the spot where his team was entrenched, they didn't recognize him and they shot him. When he shifted back in front of them and started pulling bullets out, he realized he'd been outed. They took him back to base and forced him, we don't know how, to show his powers to the CO. The first chance he got, the Werewolf called the Grand Council and told them what happened. The Grand Council called the president and threatened war on them if they didn't sit down for negotiations. And we would have won, too. There's only two ways to kill a Werewolf. There are many ways to kill a human.” **  
  
**Brad shivered at the veiled threat of Nate's voice, but managed to keep his reaction to himself. Nate let that hang for a minute before he continued to speak. **  
  
“** The President and his advisors met with the Grand Council and they hammered out an agreement. Werewolves would be allowed to serve in the military, so long as they reported their status upon enlisting or when they were turned. In return, Werewolves promised to act as type of strike force. If there was a mission human members of the military were unable to complete for some reason, then Werewolves would. Certain rules don't apply to us. Fraternization and DADT, for example. Werewolves mate for life, and those mates aren't always of the opposite gender. It would very much suck to be a Werewolf whose mate happened to be a male subordinate and have all these rules that say you can't be together. Of course, we have to keep everything very hush hush about that facet of being a Werewolf. They may have allowed it, but they don't want to see it.” **  
  
“** How is it that the entire US Military doesn't know you exist, then?” Brad asked. **  
  
“** That's where it gets tricky. When a Werewolf plans to join the military, they ask their Pack Alpha for the proper reporting paperwork, fill it out and then return it to their Alpha, who turns it into whoever is in charge of the base the Werewolf is going to for training. Werewolves are usually trained together during Basic if there's enough of them to make a group. If not they're shuffled in with everyone else. The only way to determine a Werewolf in the military is if you’re a Werewolf yourself or if you have a high enough clearance level to see the papers.” **  
  
**Brad took a minute to absorb the information he was being given while Ray came over and plopped down on the couch next to Nate, reaching for some of the leftover pizza. “Can I get rid of this?” Brad asked, and Nate shook his head in slight annoyance. **  
  
“** No, you can’t get rid of it. Not unless you die,” he said evenly. “I dare say you may find that a bit harder than a month ago as well. Some of the powers have already started to adhere to your body. Your speed and reflexes tonight, when you attacked Ray and me, are just the beginning. You’re going to get faster, stronger. Your senses are going to go off the charts.You’ll no longer get sick with normal human diseases. You’ll also age significantly slower. You’ll find that mint and chocolate, to name but a few things, will make you ill. There’s more, but I feel you’ve already experienced a bit much for one night.” Nate rattled off, having given this speech many times before and Brad just nodded numbly, looking shell-shocked. **  
  
“** Now what happens? Do I have to go through some kind of ritual or something?’ Ray snorted, and Nate smiled gently, shaking his head in the negative. **  
  
“** No. More like a trial. Before your first shift, you’ll fall extremely ill. Those not meant to carry the Werewolf magic in them perish within the first twenty hours of falling ill. Those who last longer than twenty hours or so, but don’t shift, are forever considered rejects. Only those that survive the fever and come out the other side shifted earn the right to be called Werewolf. We have faith in you.” **  
  
**Brad had been growing progressively more pale as Nate spoke, but the last part had him smiling weakly. This was stripping him of his usual calm veneer, and Nate seemed to realize this; he stood and strode over to Brad, placing a bolstering hand on his shoulder. “Try not to worry about it too much. No one has failed in nearly five decades. You have an easier task before that. You’ll be joining me and Ray for the Pack meeting next week, so you can be introduced to the rest of the Ocean Freeze Pack. They’re anxious to meet you.” **  
  
**That brought Brad up short. He was going to be trapped in undisclosed location with a bunch of Werewolves who probably wouldn’t think twice about making a casserole out of him. Nate seemed to understand - he laughed loudly for a second before standing up to his full height. **  
  
“** No worries, Brad. We won’t let them make a meal of you.” **  
**

  
**  
**The Pack meeting was the next Saturday. Ray showed up on Brad’s doorstep bright and early as promised, with news that Nate had gone the day before to take care of some political problems that had come up. Nate’s Beta, Johnathan, was hosting this month’s meeting at his house just outside the city of Del Mar, right on the border of the Torrey Pines State Park. As instructed, Brad had packed a bag with three days worth of clothes and other essentials he’d need, with the warning that pack meetings were known to drag on on for hours into the night, so he was to pack comfortably. **  
  
**Ray’s truck made better time to Del Mar than Brad thought the bucket of rust would, and within forty minutes they were traversing the winding driveway to a massive house. Right on the beach, with the park not a half mile away: if Brad had been a lesser man, he would have been jealous. Until he remembered how expensive oceanfront property in California was; in such a prime location, the owners had probably payed an arm and a leg for it. Ray pulled his own, much lighter, pack from the passenger area of the truck and led Brad up to the door, where he opened it with his usual bluster. “Johnathan, you damned gay ass motherfucker!! Don’t you know you’re supposed to answer the door when you have company!? And I know you saw us from your fucking widow’s watch, you fucker!” he shouted into the seemingly empty house. **  
  
**There came the sound of hurried footsteps, and a huge man came barreling around the corner, murder written across his face. He pounced at Ray and pinned him to the ground, hand covering his mouth and making frantic shushing sounds. **  
  
“** Shut up, fuck-knuckle! I just got him to lay down! If you woke him up, I’m grilling your ass instead of steak tonight!” he growled quietly. Ray froze for a minute and the house fell silent again. They stayed still for a few more minutes, anxious to see if they’d awoken Nate, but it looked as if the coast was clear. The man sighed and rose up off Ray and offered a hand to him. **  
  
“** Fuck, Johnathan, a text would have been nice, you dick! And what do you mean you just got him to lay down?” Ray asked, brushing imaginary debris off his clothes. The large man, Johnathan sighed and cast a swift look Brad’s way before he spoke. **  
  
“** An emissary from the River Sand Pack from Fall River Valley showed up yesterday with a message from their Pack Alpha. She wants to force a Pack merge with Ocean Freeze. She’s taken over two of the smaller Packs in Shasta County to bolster her numbers. She’s making threats, and it has Nate all abristle. He spent all day yesterday and last night calling Auxiliary wolves from all over the place and getting in contact with the High and the Grand Councils.” **  
  
**Ray made a face. “Even if she’s forcing merges with smaller Packs, once our Auxiliary wolves get here, we’ll be able to crush her. What could  possibly make Nate nervous?” he asked. Johnathan cast a look at Brad, and it dawned on Ray just what kind of threats the other Pack Alpha was making. **  
  
“** The baby wolves?” he asked, sounding gut-punched. Johnathan nodded. **  
  
“** One baby wolf will disappear for every day Nate puts off the merge after the first of the month. For every week he bucks the merge, a baby wolf will be killed. And she sent proof.” Ray paled, and Brad felt sick to his stomach. **  
  
“** Who?” Ray asked, his voice little more than a whisper, horror laced in his tone. Johnathan leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Ray made an odd sound in his chest, somewhere between a gurgle and a groan, before he looked at Brad. Johnathan followed his eyes and chuckled, an obvious cover-up for his earlier panic, a warm sound for such a large intimidating man. **  
  
“** My most sincere apologies. We’ve left you standing there as if you were nothing more than a potted plant. Where are my manners?” He held out a hand, which Brad shook. Johnathan had a firm, warm grip, and his polite and easy-going manner eased Brad’s worries slightly. “I’m Johnathan Thoreau, and I’m one of the owners of this fine house as well as Pack Beta. My mate, Derrick, is outside getting the fire pit ready for tonight. You must be Bradley,” he said warmly. **  
  
“** I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Thoreau,” Brad replied. Johnathan laughed, a booming sound that echoed off the open corridor of the entryway. He quickly stopped himself, though, and listened. Still silent. He breathed a sigh of relief before flashing Brad a smile. **  
  
“** It’s good to see you’ve got manners, fella, but there’s no need to be so formal, especially among Pack members. We’re all brothers and sisters here,” he said, and Brad nodded. Johnathan clapped his hands once and pointed to the stairs. “Why don’t you follow me up, and I’ll set you up in your rooms. Ray, I know you’re not used to staying in the main house, but the same rules apply here as down in the bunk house. You guys are on either side of Nate’s room. Brad, I’m sure you want to hear a little more about your future, so after you stow your bag, I’ll take you out back and introduce you to the other early comers. They can bore you to death with a collective two thousand years of stories while Ray and I talk shop.” **  
  
**Brad simply nodded. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle much outside simply listening to stories at the moment anyway. Johnathan gave them a few minutes to stow their bags on their beds and freshen up before Ray was directed to an office on the lower level and Brad found himself shepherded outside. **  
  
**The yard behind the house was huge. In the middle was a pit, where two large men were carefully piling logs. The beach was in view and the rest was lush green grass with a border of trees and shrubs. People were milling about the back, some already shifted and Brad was struck by the array of colors and sizes among the bunch that were already shifted. Johnathan whistled sharply and all attention was on them in a split second. **  
  
“** Guys, this is the new wolf. His name’s Brad. He’s interested in hearing about being a Werewolf, so go ahead and talk his ear off for the afternoon. Nate will be out eventually to rescue him from you lot.” He received a few good-natured jabs for that and he gently pushed Brad forward into the group before disappearing back into the house.

 

 

 

Six hours later, Brad excused himself into the house to get something to drink and eat. He’d spent the better part of his time outside helping to set up for the night’s meeting whilst being regaled with stories from everyone, ranging from as long ago as four hundred years to just before he was born. He was told old legends, and they even began to explain ceremonies to him when one of the older wolves reminded them that the task of teaching Brad about those were the responsibility of his mentors, and they should stop nosing in. **  
  
**Now, inside the large, airy kitchen with the invitation to grab whatever he wanted, his attention was caught by voices from the dim hallway leading to the back of the house. It was nearing sunset, and the number of Werewolves had increased, but it was easy to recognize the voices of Ray and Johnathan. Suddenly, Brad found himself thanking his high school principal for forcing him to take Latin all through high school. **  
  
“** _Facit Nate cogitare Illa expectare?”_ Ray asked, voice terse. **  
  
“** _Illa ad. Si incipiat impetus ante dixit, tunc nihil ratio Nate ad credere et dabitannihilare totum flumen Arenam pack. Illa non temptato eam.”_ Johnathan was apparently the voice of reason in the conversation. The higher ups were worried that this woman, another Pack Alpha Brad guessed, would attack before she said she would, but Johnathan was certain she’d wait to secure a solid merge. **  
  
“** _Ego anxius enim Nate. Minaciter fasciculum nefas est, sed scelerisque metus inlupos? Escpecially hoc infantem lupus? Hic lacerant si omnis res publica detrimentiterram occurrit illi. Eam erit Seeley omnes super iterum, solum peius.”_ Ray sounded upset now, and Brad knew there was some kind of story there. He leaned back in to keep listening. **  
  
“** _Ego eam Nate habet affectus eum. Putat ille unus?”_ Johnathan asked, an emotion in his voice that Brad would almost classify as hope. He remembered something he’s been told by both Nate and some of the wolves outside. Werewolves mated for life, and a wolf never knew when they were going to find their mate. The older ones described finding one’s mate was like being hit with a lightning bolt out of nowhere. **  
  
**If Brad was entirely truthful with himself, if Brad allowed himself to go into the place in his head where he stored all of his emotions so he didn’t have to deal with them, the place he’d made after Julie, he’d admit he’d been enamored with Nate since day one. **  
  
**At first he’d been annoyed, certain he’d been saddled with another Lieutenant who didn’t know his asshole from his elbow. Nate had set that assumption on its ass within forty minutes of walking into the room. He’d addressed the platoon with a quiet confidence and an exuberance that you’d be hard-pressed to find in even a young officer any more. He’d talked to the marines like they had a brain and could figure things out for themselves, but at the same time, he was easily accessible when they needed help. He ran with the men, did everything they did, and he still had all of his paperwork in on time. **  
  
**In Iraq, respect had morphed into affection, and then something more as Nate had struggled to keep his men  safe against the sting of incompetence that accompanied Command while at the same time losing some of his own exuberance. Brad had almost feared they’d lose their one competent officer in the wake of the death of Nate’s idealism. But Nate had brought them all home, and now Brad found himself about the enter into a new life that could last for centuries with only Nate and Ray as his guides. **  
  
**He was glad Nate was going to be there for him. The realization that Nate might feel the same way about him spoken aloud by someone else gave him a new energy, a hope that had left him the night he found out he was going to be a Werewolf. He returned his attention to the conversation, slightly glad they were speaking English again. **  
  
“** He’s stressing, too. His Forebearer is coming for a visit in a week. You know how much Nikolai’s approval means to him,” Ray said. Brad thought on that for a minute. Nate was over three hundred years old, and it was obvious someone had made him a Werewolf. Nate said most people enjoyed a healthy relationship with their Forebearers, and though he’d never said his name, Nate spoke of his own with great warmth and respect. **  
  
“** He shouldn’t worry. Nikolai adores that boy, considering Nate’s his only Progeny. I’m sure Nikolai will give him a stern lecture on freaking out, then offer his usual warm, fatherly advice to help Nate make his own decision.” Ray chuckled and then both men turned on their heels to stare directly at Brad, who stopped. **  
  
“** Busted, Brad.” **  
  
**Brad removed himself from his hiding spot with as much dignity as he could muster before walking over to stand in front of the Werewolves, who were staring at him with crossed arms and raised eyebrows as if to say **“** _Really?”_ and Brad gave his best innocent expression. It didn’t work. **  
  
“** You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on other peoples’ conversations, little brother. You may not like what you hear,” Johnathan said reproachfully, leveling Brad with an even stare that pinned Brad still to the spot where he stood. While being called “little brother” by the other man struck him as strange, what confused him more was the tone with which it was said. **  
  
**Brad figured, since his Forebearer, or whatever they called the person who made somebody into a Werewolf, had been banished and he was left alone, the Pack would regard him with pity. Johnathan spoke to him like an older sibling who caught the younger with their hand in the cookie jar. Earlier, when he’d been outside with most of the rest of the Pack and they’d been telling him stories, the women were constantly hovering, asking him of he needed anything and just generally doting on him, while the men were always asking if he wanted to join in on their games or if he wanted to help them with something around the yard. **  
  
**The behavior made no sense to Brad, but when Johnathan or Ray came out to check on him, he could swear he saw them nodding in pride or approval. Brad’s attentions was drawn away from his inner reverie by the tap-click sound of claws on hardwood. He expected to be joined by another person, possibly already shifted, within seconds, but it was almost two minutes before the familiar light gray form of Nate entered the doorway, hands occupied by a small white ball of fluff. **  
  
**Brad was astonished. He’d heard Nate from his spot to all the way on the other side of the house and upstairs. Nate smiled warmly. “I hear a lecture in the making. I came down to investigate. Just can’t stay out of trouble at all can you?” he asked Brad teasingly, one ear cocked and his tail waving behind him. Brad, in a fit of childishness very unlike him, stuck his tongue out at Nate, which drew a hearty laugh from the man. **  
  
“** You’re supposed to be resting, Nate. You were up all night and well into this morning,” Johnathan said, voice radiating disapproval. Nate shrugged broad gray shoulders, ears flicking sideways before whuffling in Johnathan’s general direction. Brad was still getting used to the random displays of canine behavior in place of human. Johnathan curled his lip, barely enough to show just the lightest hint of razor teeth before subsiding. “Oh well, if Clara sees you up and about, I’m not responsible for her actions after that point,” he continued, voice carrying a hint of snark. **  
  
**Nate chuckled. “It’s not my fault, actually. I was sleeping quite soundly until a certain puffball mushroom decided my kneecap made an excellent scratching post/bed/teething toy,” he snarked right back, brandishing said “puffball mushroom”  as if it were a weapon, gaining him an irritated “mer-row!” and a laugh from Johnathan and Ray. Brad simply sat back and watched, trying to get his head around the situation. Johnathan plucked the kitten out of Nate’s hands and cradled it to his chest. **  
  
“** Awww, my poor Zacky. Did the big bad man scare you? Yes, he’s an evil man, and if I knew he wouldn't trounce my ass for it I’d yank his tail for you. But I quite enjoy my face the way it is now,” he crooned to the kitten, Zack, and Nate gave him the _The Look,_ the one Brad himself had been pinned with a hundred times, the one that said **“** _Really, are you that fucking stupid?”_ with only his eyes. Johnathan looked at Nate evenly over the fluff of Zack’s head and they regarded each other for a minute. Until Ray moved. **  
  
**While the two oldest Werewolves regarded each other in some fondly-annoyed stare-down, Ray reached behind Nate and wrapped his hand around the base of Nate’s tail. And _pulled._ Nate made a sound between a screech and a wail as he reached back to grab the injured appendage, muttering obscenities under his breath in what sounded like every language he knew while Ray and Johnathan roared with laughter. **  
  
**Finally Nate seemed to get a hold of himself and he turned jovial and mischievous green eyes on his Progeny, slowly advancing. Sensing his impending doom, Ray shifted and bolted. Brad was shocked when Nate dropped down on all fours, loosed a strident howl, and ran after him, all while Johnathan still laughed. **  
  
“** Don’t destroy my house, you bastards!” he shouted, but there was no anger behind it as he continued to laugh and place an arm around Brad’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go outside and see what happens. They know better than to chase each other inside my house. I’ll put the whoopin’ on both of them if they bust anything, or even smudge my carpet, and they know it.” **  
  
**Brad followed Johnathan outside to the backyard, which was illuminated now only by the light of the full moon. Brad looked at the giant fire pit in curiosity. **  
  
“** Only the Pack Alpha is allowed to light the Guidance Fire. Nate will do it before long, lest he upsets the elders for not following tradition. I’m sure that’ll be one of the first stories you hear from him and Ray over the next couple weeks. If I remember correctly, you’ve got about three weeks until your first shift.” **  
  
**Brad nodded, gritting his teeth. There really were only a few weeks left before the “big day”. **  
  
**Down the lawn further, onto the beach, there was a commotion of many voices cheering and shouting, and Johnathan shook his head. “It’s little wonder they're making this much noise. We need some lightness around here,” he muttered to himself. Brad watched in fascination as Johnathan shucked his shirt and came to a halt. **  
  
**Brad had yet to see any Werewolf shift, let alone as close as a few inches away. Johnathan’s bones groaned and his muscles creaked as his body arranged itself into that of a wolf. He grew taller and filled out, inky black fur sprouting out of his skin. Teeth sharpened and lengthened, and a tail grew from just above where his tailbone had been. When he was done, he reached back and guided his tail through the slit in the back of his shorts and turned bright green eyes on Brad, giving him a grin that was all teeth. Brad blinked. **  
  
“** That was... slightly terrifying,” he said, voice a mixture of awe and dismay. Johnathan simply laughed as they came level with the rest of the group and they turned to watch. Nate was struggling to free himself from underneath a pile of six smaller wolves, yelling and shouting threats, though they held no heat and it was easy to tell he was trying to keep from laughing out loud. **  
  
“** What are you doing standing around? Help me!” he cried, and the laughter bubbled up until he was shaking so violently with it the wolves on top of him were struggling to hold him. Eventually Nate managed to wrest himself from the bottom of the pile and he stood, brushing dirt and and sand from his fur. The group broke up as Johnathan and Brad came to stand next to Nate, both smiling. Ray was pulling himself up and chuckling. **  
  
“** I win. In your face,” he said, summarily, and Nate laughed, reaching to the side and shoving Ray, laughing loudly as Ray tumbled down the sandy hill. At the bottom he rose to his feet, flipped Nate the bird, and stalked off, muttering under his breath. Nate simply smiled, showing teeth before he turned to the pair. **  
  
“** Pardon the interruption,” he said cheekily, rubbing a hand over his head. He brought his left hand down and looked at the watch the wrapped around his wrist, frowning slightly. “Huh, didn’t realize it was that late already,” he mumbled. He looked up and smiled again. “Come on, then. I have to light the Guidance Fire so Derrick and the others can get dinner ready.”  He waved his hand and both men followed behind him. **  
  
**Beside the pit where the logs were set up was mottled gray female Werewolf, whom Brad had been introduced to earlier as Clara, was holding a bundle of leafy twigs and flint rocks. Johnathan led Brad to where the other Werewolves were gathering in a circle around the pit, waiting for Nate and the female to make a move. Once of everyone was there, the female handed Nate the flint. **  
  
**There were no sweeping gestures, no grand speech to begin the Pack meeting. The air about them was silent save for the crashing of the tide against the beach as Nate accepted the flint and struck them against one another. With a few practiced strikes, a spark landed on the bundle, which began to smoke. Nate dropped the flint, grabbed the bundle and blew on it twice, which ignited it. He flung it into the pit and the resin drenched lumber went up in flames, illuminating the entire backyard with a warm and welcoming light. There was silence for a minute longer before Nate clapped his hands together. **  
  
“** I’ve only got one announcement this evening. Today, we have the honor of welcoming Brad Colbert as a member of the Ocean Freeze Pack. I hope you welcome him with the same warmth and joy you’ve welcomed all others before him.” **  
  
**A murmur of heart-felt welcomes arose, and as the group dispersed Brad was surrounded by wolves who wanted to shake his hand or pat him on the back. While this was going on, Nate was helping three other large wolves settle two spits on either side of the flames. A dark gray wolf barked sharply and four more wolves exited the house, supporting between them two whole deer, skinned and ready for the fire. Brad’s jaw dropped as the eight Werewolves settled the deer on the spits and drew straws to see who was going to spin the spits and when. **  
  
**Beside him, Ray chuckled at his expression. “That’s dinner for everyone. A few days ago, a couple of the younger wolves went on a hunting trip as part of their testing for their Coming of Age ceremonies. Nate usually goes with, but he’s been getting things ready for you, so he sent Johnathan. He’ll be talking to the ones who got those tonight, so he’s asked the Johnathan and I keep and eye on your Viking ass until he’s done. He’s got a surprise for you tonight,” he tacked on the end, as if it were an afterthought. **  
  
**That’s how Brad’s night went. In much the same fashion as his afternoon, he listened to story after story, from all over the world and all across time. He ate dinner with everyone in a big circle around the fire as Nate animatedly retold the supposed Origin Legend of the Werewolves. He’d just sat down next to Johnathan and his mate Derrick when Nate began. **  
  
“** Long ago, in the before times, when Werewolves still ran on all fours and spoke no human tongue, the Gods and Goddess roamed the earth.  Apollo, who held wolves sacred to himself, created the first Werewolves from the fur pelt a black male wolf and the essence of a female human. For centuries, Werewolves walked in the shadow of Apollo, his loyal and happy servants. **  
  
“** Werewolves, then creatures solely of the day, were

rendered blind once Helios ended his chariot ride across the sky, and confined themselves to caves for their own protection. One night, Artemis led her hunting dogs through the forest outside the cave of a Werewolf name Alpha. The dogs were attacked  and Alpha burst out of his cave. Blind as he was, Alpha saved the dogs, but forfeit his own life in the process.  
  
“Artemis, thankful to Alpha, blessed Werewolves with the gift of speech, the gift of sight, and the gift of shifting, allowing Werewolves to better serve her brother. In return, she only asked that on the nights of the full moon, the Artemis’s Moon, that Werewolves gather and light a fire, to scare away the harmful creatures from their hunting grounds.  
  
“In this, Werewolves became the loyal servants of Apollo and the jovial harbingers of Artemis. To this day, during the three days of Artemis’s Moon, Pack Alphas gather their pack members around them and light the Guidance Fire in her honor, as has been tradition for centuries.”  
  
Nate spoke with such zeal and intensity, his eyes shining as he spoke. Brad and the younger wolves were leaning forward in rapt attention and even the older wolves were watching Nate speak, pride in their eyes. When the story was done there was applause and and Nate took a Showman’s bow, grinning. He sat next to Brad and was handed a plate, laden with rice, beans and venison as another Werewolf stood up and began another story.  
  
“Is this what you guys do every month?” he whispered, knowing Nate’s hearing could easily pick it up over the laughter of the surrounding Werewolves. Nate nodded as he took a bite of venison before he leaned over to answer Brad.  
  
“Sometimes we tell stories. Sometimes we sing and dance. Sometimes we just run around and play games. Usually we meet at Cleveland National Forest, but Johnathan offered us his home for the next three days, so we took him up on the offer. What we do depends on the mood, and if we’re in conflict or not.” Nate shrugged broad shoulders. “I know that you heard about our predicament earlier, when you and Ray first arrived, and the rest of the Pack already knows as well, but they need a few nights of revelry. The invasion of Iraq was a trying time for us.”  
  
Brad nodded. He understood that the Ocean Freeze Pack was mostly, if not all, military personnel in some capacity.  
  
The Pack began to break up around three in the morning. most of the members heading in the direction of the building that was on the opposite side of the property from the house, which Brad assumed was the bunk house Johnathan had mentioned earlier in the day. He asked Johnathan about the bunk house as he helped him clean up plates.  
  
“Believe it or not, this house is actually the closest residence to the Pack’s usual meeting grounds, so I had the bunk house built about fifty years ago, so everyone would have a place to go after meetings were done. Obviously its been updated.” He paused for a minute and looked at Brad before he continued to speak.  
  
“As I’m sure you can tell, the Ocean Freeze Pack is an almost strictly military Pack. I’m also sure Nate’s told you about the procedure that occurs when a Werewolf either joins the military or when they make the Change while enlisted. Command knows it’s not strange for members of Packs and even lone wolves to go missing from duties two or three days out of the month. Having the bunkhouse prevents Pack members from driving home long distances when they’re overly tired, or drunk on the nights we break out the alcohol, which keeps preventable accidents to minimum.”  
  
Brad simply nodded, which he found himself doing a lot lately, and continued to clean up. Eventually between Johnathan, Derrick, Nate, Ray, Clara and himself, they got the plates and cups cleared away while the Guidance Fire burned down and the others cleaned up the rest of the stuff. Nate bid Johnathan and Derrick good night as the pair went inside, and then he came to stand beside Brad, heavy furred hand resting on Brad’s shoulder.  
  
“Can I see you in the office for a minute?” he asked, looking over to his Progeny. “You too, Clara, Ray. We’ll need witnesses for this.” He gathered the little group and they all went inside and down the halls to the back office. “This is the Pack office,” Nate explained. “This is where Johnathan and I complete all Pack business. The office you were in earlier is the home office Derrick uses for his work.”  
  
He pulled a chain from around his neck and walked over to the wall. He pulled down the painting there, revealing a wall safe. With a key that was on the end of the chain, he opened the first lock and then, giving them his back, he entered the number code. The safe opened, and Nate grabbed out a legal envelope before closing the safe and putting the picture back.  
  
He took a seat behind the desk, motioned for Brad to do the same across from him and then stationed Ray and Clara on either side. he set the envelope down and twined his fingers, claws resting on the back of each hand as he regarded Brad evenly.  
  
“I feel I should explain this in depth before we get started, if Ray and Clara will bear with me a moment?” The other two nodded, so Nate continued. “As I’m sure you’ve read, wolves are a territorial bunch. Werewolves are no different. What and who we have, we guard jealously. But no place and no-one more so then our Den and Denmates.”  
  
Brad made a motion with his hand for Nate to continue.  
  
“When you read about Werewolves, or you see them in movies, a person usually becomes a Werewolf by being bitten, whether it’s a virus or it’s magic. For us, it is magic. If you think of the teeth as a multi-pronged syringe, or something similar, the Forebearer of a new Werewolf shares his magic with them. The magic sits in the spot where you were bitten, in your case, the back of the neck, like a reservoir. After a certain amount of time, the magic releases itself from where it sits. This creates a sort of... magical backlash. This is also why new Werewolves fall ill before their first shift. It’s your body’s reaction to the magic suffusing your body.”  
  
Here, Nate paused, looking at Clara and Ray on either side of him and smiled. “Pack... Alphas have limited control over who joins their Pack. We’ve heard horror stories about Packs that can’t stand to be in the presence of each other, even on the full moon when they could be up and running around. We’re lucky. Almost everyone in Ocean Freeze actually likes each other.”  
  
“Your den is your safehouse. Your Denmates are the people closest to you. Your Forebearer. Your closest friends in the Pack. Hell, I’ve had people bring their parents. When you finally meld with your Werewolf magic, there’s this moment of pure and intense... animalistic instinct. In that moment, where you are and who you’re with receives a sort of... mark. Allow me to make an example.”  
  
Nate leaned back and propped his footpaws up on the wall so he was looking at Brad sideways. “I was changed a little over three hundred years ago, at a cabin in the Siberian forests. At the time, only myself, my Forebearer, Nikolai, and his wife were there. If I were ever in danger or injured, instinct would drive me to the cabin, and instinct would prevent me from trusting anyone save for Nikolai or his wife. Because you haven’t had the time or resources we’ve had to establish you fortune or buy a suitable property for your Den, it’s the job of Ray and myself as your substitute Forebearers to make sure you have what you need.”  
  
Nate sat back up and slid the folder over to Brad, which he flipped open and gaped. “Quitclaim deed to Property #481G77....You’re giving me a house?!”  
  
This was too much. He didn’t care if Nate had enough money to pay off the debt of the entire United States. “I can’t take this,” he said firmly, closing the folder and pushing it towards Nate. Beside him, Ray and Clara snickered loudly, and Nate leaned forward, leveling a glower in Brad’s direction.  
  
“And why, pray tell, Bradley, are you preventing us from completing our responsibilities to you as your Forebearers? Is there any good reason why you can’t accept this property, if it means your future safety and comfort?” he asked, his voice low, with an undercurrent of hurt. It dawned on Brad then that they really saw it as their shared responsibility to take care of him.  
  
No one ever wanted to take care of him before.  
  
Brad gingerly drew the file back to him and flipped it open. “Property #481G77 will be transferred from Grantor Nathaniel C. Fick to the care of Grantee Bradley Colbert. A two-storied cabin and the surrounding seven acres of land in Whispering Pines, Lake County, California.” Nate nodded and grabbed a pen, signing his name on the top dotted line before passing the pen to Brad. Brad only gave a moment’s hesitation before signing his name under Nate’s. Ray signed in the spot designated for the witness, and Clara in the spot for the Notary.  
  
With the transaction done, Nate seemed to relax. He gave the folder to Clara, who left the room. “She’s going to call the courier. That’ll need to be filed within the week, so we can head out there. As soon as my Forebearer arrives, and anyone else you want there, we’ll take you there and finish getting you ready for your first shift.”  
  
Nate stood up and walked around the desk, clapping Brad and Ray on the shoulder before leaving the room. Brad looked up as Ray came to stand in front of him, still shifted. “I know he can be a little forceful sometimes, nothing like he was in Iraq, but he means well. At three hundred years old, he’s considered old-fashioned. In his time, Forebearers did everything for their Progeny. Bought or made their Den, taught them everything, supplied their clothes, food and medicine. Hell, that’s what he tried to do to me.”  
  
Ray leaned back against the desk and smiled.  
  
“He understands that we new-fashioned humans are independent and he tries to respect that. But you don’t have any means to get yourself a proper Den. Brad, your Forebearer did a very bad thing when he basically tooth-raped you. That offends Nate’s sense of honor greatly, and he’s taken your care very personally. Plus, there’s some other things going on there, but you two need to figure that out for yourselves, damnit.”  
  
Brad gaped at him for a minute. Ray snorted and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Brad’s shoulder. “What I’m trying to say is, give him a break. He’s trying to take care of you. He _wants_ to take care of you, alright?” He rose and left the room, leaving Brad with a lot more to think about.  
  
 

 

  
A week later, Nate left Brad in the care of Walt and Ray when he headed for LAX. Brad had been wondering on his conversation with Ray since last week, and he’d watched Nate leave with a strange pang of sadness, as if he feared Nate wouldn’t be coming back.  
  
Ray only nodded knowingly as he handed Brad a cup of steaming coffee, looking out the picture window of Nate’s house. “It’s going to rain today, so we’re gonna play Halo. You want in?” he asked. Brad was silent, and Ray shook his head, snorting. “He’s gonna come back, Iceman. Stop looking out the window like some dickless puppy dog and at least eat some breakfast.”  
  
Brad just gave him a baleful look and sat in the window seat, staring out at the overcast, suburban street. Ray flung his hands up and stalked away, muttering under his breath about “over-emotional fucking starry-eyed lovers who don’t even realize how gay they are for each other”.  
  
Brad didn’t dignify him with a response.  
  
A while later, Walt came back with another cup of coffee and a plate heaped with food. Brad just looked at it mournfully and turned his head away. Walt bit his lip. This was more than pining. Walt left the mug and plate within reach and disappeared into the kitchen, where Ray was tapping away on a laptop.  
  
“When is Brad supposed to have his first shift, Ray?” he asked, sitting at the table and swirling the coffee in his own mug. Ray looked up and furrowed his brow.  
  
“Any time now. That’s why Nate didn’t really want to leave today. Nikolai even tried to convince him to stay, but Brad told Nate it’d be rude to make Nikolai drive himself. Why?” Ray took a slow pull on his coffee and looked at Walt evenly.  
  
“And what do new Werewolves experience?” Walt’s question seemed to confuse Ray for a minute before Walt’s train of thought caught up with him. His fingers closed tight around the handle of his mug as he looked at Walt.  
  
“Periods of upset and despondency, broken up by episodes of extreme energy or rage. Loss of appetite, a sudden increase in intake of fluids, exhaustion, fever...” His voice trailed off, and then he cursed long and low. “Walt get the fucking emergency bags and start the car,” he ordered.  
  
Walt didn’t ask questions, simply got up and went to the back room. Ray grabbed his cellphone out of his pocket, hitting the first speed dial button. He was answered almost immediately.  
  
“ _Ray? What’s wrong?”_ Nate asked, and he could hear the sound of planes in the background.  
  
“It’s happening. Now. I didn’t recognize the signs at first, but Walt got worried. We’re heading to the cabin in five minutes. Pick up Nikolai and head straight for Brad’s place.”  
  
When Nate responded in the affirmative, Ray hung up, slipping his phone back. He reentered the living room. Brad was in much the same position as earlier, sitting in the window seat with his arms wrapped around his legs.  
  
Ray approached cautiously, aware that Brad could switch moods faster than Nate could snap his fingers. Which was pretty damned fast.  
  
“Hey, Brad,” he said, voice cheerful despite his own tension.  
  
Brad didn’t respond.  
  
Ray grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it around Brad’s shoulders. He grabbed Brad’s upper arms and helped him to his feet. “Come on, we’re gonna go for a drive.” Brad flashed Ray a look that had him wishing Nate was not in Los Angeles at the moment. Brad looked positively pathetic. Ray helped Brad outside into the SUV, settling him into the back seat before closing the door.  
  
He let Walt drive, preparing for the fact that he may have to climb into the back and prevent brad from harming one or both of them in a fit of rage. Nate had warned them that Brad, because of his northern blood, would be prone to fits of violence instead of the episodes of energy Ray’s southern blood had caused before his first shift.  
  
“Fucking drive, Walt. The faster the fucking better.”  
  
 

  
Brad’s first fit came just outside of Los Angeles. Nate had called an hour after they’d first contacted him, informing him that Nikolai was being body searched at Customs and he didn’t know how long they would take. He was going to meet them at a little diner they all knew just on the border with West Hollywood. Nikolai and Nate would be getting the SUV from Ray and Walt and the pair would be taking Nate’s sedan as they drove straight for Brad’s place in Whispering Pines.  
  
Just as they hit city limits, Brad snarled in rage and chucked his glass bottle on the floor, shocking Ray and Walt as he exploded into a long string of curses that would’ve made their mothers faint. His anger only deepened when his bare foot was sliced open on one of the pieces, and he slammed his fist into the window, which cracked under the force of his enhanced strength. Ray prayed that the SUV could hold on until they reached the diner. He hoped the older wolves would know what to do with Brad, because Ray sure had no fucking clue.  
  
Ray’s prayer was answered when they pulled up at the diner, and he looked up as he finished bandaging Brad’s foot. Nate shook his head and suddenly Ray’s phone was ringing. He picked it up and answered hesitantly. “What is it?” he asked, voice resigned.  
  
“ _It’s not safe here. Go to the Rustic Canyon Recreation Park. You remember where it is?”_ Nate’s voice was tinny but it was easy to tell he was worried. There was a quiet rumbling in the background before Ray responded.  
  
“Yeah, I remember. Hurry up, though. Brad’s losing his fucking shit in here, and I don’t know if Walt and I can hold him if he gets it in his mind to really throw a fit.” He hung up as Brad snarled and tried to reach for him, but Ray delivered a stinging slap to his wrist and bared his teeth at him. In that moment, Brad showed the first flash of his Werewolf instincts.  
  
The sharp reprimand seemed to surprise him, but he subsided into silence, looking at his wrist in what appeared to be shock. Ray snorted. That was nothing. Literally a slap on the wrist. If Brad kept that up, Ray was sure he and Nate would constantly be worrying about disciplining him. For the whole twenty five minute drive to the park, Brad was silent, staring at the floor and his now-bandaged foot.  
  
Walt pulled into the shade and both men climbed out. Walt made quick work of the glass shards while Ray sopped up the remains of the liquid that had been in the bottle when Brad chucked it. Nate’s sedan pulled in and he exited the vehicle. Behind him was a mountain of man, tall and well muscled, though not overly so. Green eyes sparkled from a tan face smattered with black stubble, his short hair mussed from what was most likely a post-plane trip nap.  
  
“Ray,” he said warmly, voice only lightly accented enough to give away his heritage, and enveloped the smaller man in a hug, nearly crushing him with his strength. Sometimes Nikolai forgot he was over five times Ray’s age, and therefore much stronger than him. Ray hugged him back quickly and Nikolai set him down, peering into the SUV curiously. “So. I hear you got yourself a baby wolf in the back. How was the trip?” he asked.  
  
Ray blinked. If he was asking, then Brad had probably retreated to the relative safety of his blanket. Nate stepped forward, apparently expecting a sitrep.  
  
“It was okay until we reached the city limits. He huddled under the blanket and all he did was ask for a drink every now and then. Of course, when we reached the city limits he lost his fucking shit and threw his goddamned bottle on the ground and started swearing a blue streak. Tried to grab me after I bandaged the cut on his foot, so he got a slap on the wrist. He’s been quiet ever since.”  
  
Nate nodded.  
  
“I’m gonna see if I can talk to him. Nikolai, can you switch the bags around, please?”  
  
The big man set about his task while Walt and Ray trotted after Nate to the SUV. Nate opened the back door, surprised to see Brad sitting there and staring at Nate. They locked gazes for but a moment before Nate found his arms full of a whimpering Brad, shocked silent and still by the violence of his emotion and the suddenness of Brad’s movements. Nate quickly recovered himself though and wrapped his arms around Brad, hushing him gently. After a minute of maneuvering he managed to get both himself and Brad into the backseat, wrapping the blanket around Brad’s trembling shoulders in the air conditioned cabin.  
  
Nikolai was quick to load the trunk as Nate passed orders to Ray and Walt to stay close to them as they sped through the back roads shortcut Nate had formulated so they could get to the cabin quicker. Once the door was closed Nate resumed his gentle petting and murmuring, trying to keep Brad from flipping out again and exacerbating his already tenuous condition.  
  
On average, a human had fourteen hours from the onset of symptoms before the fever began. Brad had started exhibiting symptoms that morning at five a.m and Ray had contacted Nate just after ten a.m. Now it was just past noon. Half of their time was already gone. It was seven and a half hours from Los Angeles to Whispering Pines on the main roads, six and a half on the short cut Nate had spent an hour mapping out. While it would be medically feasible for Brad to spend the first hour of his fever in the vehicle, Nate would rather he be safely ensconced in his own cabin before then.  
  
Humans undergoing the fever were restless and for the first ten hours, they were almost constantly up and moving, singing, talking, crying, and all around making noise and moving, before it put them on their asses. Making Brad remain still in the SUV would be akin to torture, and Nate couldn’t bring himself to force Brad to suffer that.  
  
Nikolai didn‘t need to be told. The look in Nate's eyes spoke for itself.  
  
Nikolai drove thirty miles over the speed limit the entire trip.  
  
 

  
By the time they reached Whispering Pines, Brad’s temperature was already beginning to rise. He’d started humming Air Supply shortly outside the village limits, and Nate had shared a sharp look with Nikolai, who’d pressed harder on the gas pedal and sped to the cabin, Walt and Ray in hot pursuit.  
  
Nate had spent the entirety of the drive glancing at his watch, dealing with Brad’s rapid fire mood swings, and trying to communicate with Johnathan, who called with the news that the first baby wolf had gone missing.  
  
Nate was angry. It would be another week at least before the rest of his reinforcements arrived to help him, and with Brad literally on the edge of his first shift, he was hours away when his Pack needed him. But in that same token, Brad needed him.  
  
No one was really sure how aware a person was during the time leading up to their first shifts. All Nate could remember was heat and pain, soothing voices and the smell of cedar. Ray couldn’t remember much of his first shift either. But if all shifts were similar in the respect of stimuli, then he knew Brad was in pain, and that it would only get worse as time wore on.  
  
Nikolai sped up the dirt driveway and screeched to a halt when they reached the cabin. Ray pulled the other vehicle up beside them and they all piled out, Nate giving orders as he ushered Brad towards the cabin’s porch. “Ray, help Nikolai with the bags. Walt, I need you to go over to the shed there, the key is in the flower pot, and go inside. There’s a large blue duffel bag inside. Bring it up to the house as quickly as you can.”  
  
Ray and Walt scrambled to do as they were asked as Nate grabbed the extra key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights, pushing Brad down onto the couch. He hurried around the house, turning on lights, thankful he’d sent one of his Packmates up earlier to wipe everything down and turn on the electricity.  
  
Once everything was illuminated, Nate turned back to look at Brad’s form on the couch. For the next while the only thing he could do was let Brad move around or sit where was comfortable. He left Brad for a moment to help Ray and Nikolai move the bags inside, holding the door for Walt as he carried the blue duffel inside.  
  
Nate closed the door behind him and directed Walt to set the bag gently on the table, while everyone’s duffel bags and suitcases were tossed carelessly on the landing. Unpacking was the least of their worries right now. Nate waved off everyone to do as they pleased, reminding them to keep a sharp eye on Brad while they were doing it, as he headed for the bag on the kitchen table.  
  
Once unzipped, the bag revealed medical supplies, which Nate pulled out and left on the kitchen table. Ray came to join him and organized the supplies into neat rows. Inside were IV starter kits, rolls of bandages, braces, slings and all manner of first aid items. When Nate nipped into the refrigerator for a moment and returned with a steel cooler, it opened to reveal bags of IV fluids and even blood.  
  
“What’s all this for?” Walt asked, staring as Nate and Ray set up what could be a veritable trauma care unit. Nikolai counted bags in the cooler, resealed it and carried it back to the refrigerator before Nate answered his question.  
  
“Having your first shift is nothing like in the movies, where you get a sudden rush of strength and energy. In all actuality, it takes a lot out of you. There’s also the possibility of injuries if the baby wolf gets frightened or angry, whether to the baby wolf itself or to the wolves and other people in their proximity.” Nikolai grunted in agreement.  
  
“Most baby wolves are extremely tired after their first shifts, if they don’t pass out after the first fifteen minutes, and they remain so for a few days. The fever dehydrates them and generally makes them not hungry or thirsty afterwards. Before IVs were invented, many baby wolves perished shortly after their first shift for that very reason.” Nikolai stowed some bandages in the duffel before he continued.  
  
“Nate had a rough go of it. He was in bed for nearly two weeks. My wife thought we would lose him because for the first day or so, he refused water, even the smallest amounts. Ray, I remember, was only down for about three days before he was up and about again, if a little slower then before. But it looks like the this one here is a strong fella, and he’ll be up and about just as shortly,” he said, gesturing towards Brad, who’d begun pacing the living room rapidly.  
  
Walt nodded and watched as the other men began moving about with ease. Ray was mumbling something about putting an IV hook in the wall upstairs in Brad’s bedroom, Nate was talking rabidly with Nikolai in what sounded Russian, and the two were looking between Walt and Brad uneasily.  
  
“Can I help with anything?” Walt asked, feeling as though he were sitting and doing nothing when there were obviously many things they could be doing at the moment. Nate nodded.  
  
“Just relax and try not to freak out. I know Ray has helped you to decide you want to be a Werewolf, but the process of the first change can be frightening for a human to witness, even if that human is already on the bandwagon. And we don’t want you too keyed up, in case Brad has another mood swing.”  
  
Walt merely nodded again and wandered into the kitchen, where Ray was fumbling in the drawers before he pulled out a drill bit set with a triumphant sound. He smiled his usual bright smile at Walt as he came in. “Hey, Walt. You want a beer?” he asked, brandishing the bit set through the air like a sword.  
  
“You’re gonna use drill bits to open my beer?” Walt asked, voice laced with incredulity. Ray snorted inelegantly and flipped Walt the bird before stowing the kit in his back pocket. Retrieving two bottles of beer, he led Walt into the living room and handed him one and slumping into one of the recliners. Nate was seated comfortably on the couch in front of the fire place with Brad curled up next to him, head resting on Nate’s thigh and seemingly holding a conversation with him while Nate petted his head gently.  
  
Nikolai was standing by the door, talking in hushed tones over his cell phone, smiling softly. Walt wondered if it was the wife he and Nate had both mentioned. Taking a seat on the arm of the recliner next to Ray, smiling when the other man elbowed his hip in acknowledgement, he settled in with the others to play the waiting game.  
  
 

  
Early the next morning, with the sky a dark gray that heralded either torrential rain or snow, Brad’s temperature spiked sharply. Nate’s curse roused the others from their doze and Nikolai jumped up to help him. They’d made up a soft pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor for Brad to lay on and they levered him onto gently. They hadn’t wanted to put him in his bedroom for fear he would panic after the shift and rune the room, possibly injuring himself or them.  
  
While there was nothing they could really do until the fever broke, Nate sat beside Brad on the pallet, talking quietly in an attempt to reassure him. All the wolves had shifted shortly after their arrival, and now Nate’s light gray fur, spiked every which way from sleep, bristled in anger at his helplessness to protect Brad, the baby wolf that meant so much to him.  
  
The hours dragged on until late in the afternoon, when they’d just finished a scratch lunch in the kitchen amidst subdued conversation.  
  
It started with a creak of muscle and a grinding of bone. Brad arched painfully from his spot on the pallet, a scream ripping from his throat. Nate and Nikolai bristled as their own senses picked up on the magic beginning to permeate the air; Ray, sensing the older one’s unease, pushed Walt behind him.  
  
Brad thrashed and yelled on the floor before, with what would almost be considered an explosion, there was a blinding flash of light. Fur, thick and white, began to grow on Brad’s skin while his limbs lengthened and thickened to sounds of breaking and re-healing bones. His face lengthened and tapered into a muzzle while his teeth and nails sharpened into claws and fangs.  
  
When the transformation was complete, in the place where Brad’s human body had lain before was a large white Werewolf, no bigger than Brad’s own human form. There was a quiet groaning and the Werewolf’s eyes snapped open, revealing a bright and clear Arctic blue. The small party stood still, awaiting his reaction.  
  
Brad groaned again and rolled over onto his belly before levering himself up onto all fours and then onto his footpaws. He wavered for a moment before taking staggering steps to where they stood. He stared at them for a minute before, much to the consternation of the others, he trembled violently and collapsed forward against Nate’s chest, out cold and dead to the world.  
  
 

  
Brad awoke to a thumping headache, his body wracked with agony. He felt as if he’d been hit by a Humvee. Multiple times.  
  
“Ah, so you’ve decide to join us in the world of the living again, have you?” a voice said beside him and Brad turned his head to look. Nikolai was sitting in a comfortable looking chair next to the bed, a newspaper in his lap and what looked like a coffee mug on the table next to him.  
  
Brad’s first thought was of Nate. More accurately, where he was. Brad felt disappointed that he hadn’t woken to find Nate sitting vigil at his bedside.  
  
“He and Ray are hunting,” Nikolai explained when Brad asked. “The prices of meat at the deli in Logan’s Peak were ridiculous. They’ll be back in an hour or so, I’d guess. Walt’s downstairs, making breakfast if you think you can handle it.”  
  
Brad shook his head.  
  
Nikolai nodded. “I thought as much. Are you thirsty? Do you hurt?” he asked, taking a drink of his coffee.  
  
“No and yes. I feel like I’ve been run over a couple dozen times by a semi-truck.” He rasped. Nikolai chuckled and reached for a syringe that was on the bedside table. He stood up and pulled the cap off with his teeth and stuck the needle into a port in the IV line. He depressed the plunger, tossed the empty sharp into a nearby bin and settled back in his chair.  
  
In a few minutes, Brad felt much better and was pretty certain he’d just been pumped full of some serious pain killers. “Modern medicine. It’s lovely isn’t it?” Nikolai asked, taking another sip from his cup and grinning in Brad’s direction, looking for all the world like a mischievous teenager. Brad simply nodded.  
  
Nikolai’s next sentence was cut short by the sound of the door downstairs slamming open and the animated conversation of what could only be Nate and Ray. Brad listened closely and snorted loudly when he discovered they were arguing about who had more mud on their fur.  
  
“You can’t even tell you’re gray anymore!” He heard Ray shout. There was the scrape of claws on hardwood and a yelping laugh.  
  
“You just don’t think you’re covered in mud because you’re already that color, Ray.” That was Walt. Brad chuckled at the comeback and at Ray’s speechless stuttering, which he could hear all the way up on his floor. Nikolai chuckled along with him and rose to his feet, holding his hand up for Brad to hold on a second.  
  
Nikolai trotted out of the room and down the steps. Brad listened, suddenly grateful for his newly enhanced hearing. “You guys are back early. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour at least.” There was a snort.  
  
“Our illustrious Pack Alpha here tripped over a tree root and scared the herd we were stalking and spooked them. We got one, but only after he forgot everything you taught him, made a fool of himself, embarrassed me and shamed Werewolves all over the world.” There was nothing to do but laugh and it seemed Nikolai had made the same assumption as his own voice echoed through the house like great tolling bells.  
  
“Nate, I swear I taught you better than that. Tripping over a tree root? Really?” Nikolai joked mockingly,  and Nate grumbled something under his breath that sounded less-than flattering from his position upstairs. The conversation turned serious from there and Brad listened closely to what was being said.  
  
“We got a call last night right before I went to sleep. The second one has gone missing. Royce Tavern. Taken, it seems, from his vehicle in the deserted parking garage of the office building where he works. There are signs of a struggle, including fur and blood, which means either the kidnappers were shifted and cut him up while Royce pulled out some fur or Royce got a chance to shift and fought back. My contact in the crime lab is running tests for us now. I’ll have the results in an hour or so, from what he tells me.”  
  
There was a discontented rumbling from the lower floor for a minute followed by a heavy silence. Brad’s heart sank in an uncharacteristic show of fear. The kidnappings were starting, and he was in the group of people the rival pack were threatening to take.  
  
“That’s enough for now, Nate. Young ears often hear what they’re not meant to,” Nikolai lectured gently. There was an immediate lull in the conversation, and Brad sat patiently still, hoping to hear more of what was going on, but nothing was forthcoming. Instead, they changed the topic to something apparently much more interesting. Him.  
  
“When did he wake up?” Ray asked.  
  
“Oh, about twenty minutes ago or so. Said he felt positively rotten, but I suppose that shouldn’t surprise anyone given how long he was out before he woke up.” Nikolai replied.  
  
“A day and a half is certainly nothing to snort at. Ray was out only for a few hours, and I don’t count because medicine back in the 1700s sucked.” That was Nate, sounding relieved and happy. “Does he seem otherwise unharmed?”  
  
“Yes. Come upstairs and ask him yourself. One of the first things he asked about was where you were, so you should go up there and assuage his uneasiness. The last thing he needs right now is to be stressing unnecessarily.”  
  
“I agree,” was all Nate said before bounding up the stairs. Brad leaned back against the pillows and patiently awaited his arrival in the room. He heard Nate stop at a door further down the hall and, not surprisingly, he heard the sounds of a shower starting. Probably getting ready to scrub the mud off of himself so he didn’t track it all over Brad’s house.  
  
A few minutes later, the door opened and Nate, still shifted, wearing only a towel around his hips, entered the room, all smiles.  “Good to see you awake, Brad. We’ve been waiting for you,” he needled, coming to stand at the side of the bed where Nikolai had been sitting not minutes before.  
  
“Oh really?” he snorted, and Nate chuckled. He heaved himself into the vacated seat before leaning forward and staring at Brad intently. There was a minute of stillness before Nate sniffed deeply, a rumbling deep in his chest. The sound startled Brad, who wasn’t expecting it, and brought the other three people into the room.  
  
“ _Warm citrus in a sun-baked wheat field.”_ Nate whispered, very quietly, almost as if he were in a trance and Nikolai and Ray’s eyes got bigger before they, too, leaned forward and sniffed. The other two wolves burst into a similar rumbling and the room almost seemed the vibrate with it before it crested. Walt was backing away towards the door, almost as if he were afraid they would lose their control and attack him.    
  
As suddenly as the sound started, it stopped and the room was thrown into a heavy silence. Brad almost flinched when Nate leaned forward and ran the tip of his nose up Brad’s neck, across his jaw to his chin before pulling back slightly and butting his muzzle up against the side of Brad’s face.  
  
Brad shivered as an inexplicable surge of warmth and affection rolled through him and, seemingly without realizing it, he returned the gesture, which made Nate smile brightly. He huffed softly across Brad’s face, and the warm air he felt smelt vaguely of cedar and pear.  
  
The silence dragged on for another moment before Brad spoke, voice a lot more shaky than usual.  
  
“What in the actual fuck was that?” he asked, bringing a hand up to the side of his face that had been in contact with Nate only moments before. Nate didn’t seem able to answer as he sat back heavily in his chair, pale green eyes wide, fur on end. Nikolai answered in his place.  
  
“That, Brad, was your first taste of Werewolf instinct. What Nate did just now is called an “Affection Tap”. You’re response to Nate’s non-verbal communication was to return the gesture. On the other hand, your scent is another thing that seems to be causing Nate some consternation.” At Brad’s questioning look, Nikolai continued, coming to lean on the back of Nate’s chair.  
  
“Every Werewolf has three names. Your given name, your scent name and your “True Name”. True Names come from the ancient tradition stemming from many tribes around the world of giving a person another name when they become an adult. A good example of this are some tribes Native Americans, whose names were often the first thing their mother saw when they were born, later lengthened into almost full sentences. A young boy named “Running Horse” may later become “Horse running in light of dusk”. It used to be that the only way for a Werewolf to earn their True name was to prove themselves in battle or perform a great task. Nate and I earned ours in battle, while Ray performed a great deed.” Nate seemed to tense at this, and Brad filed that away as pertinent information to seek out later.  
  
Nikolai continued. “Nowadays, baby wolves can earn their True Names through a series of tasks set before them by the Pack Alpha. This is probably, and hopefully, how you will earn yours,” he said, glancing at Brad and then Walt in turn. Nate and Ray nodded emphatically. They obviously wanted neither of them earning their names through violence or danger.  
  
“Scent names are self-explanatory. Every Werewolf has an individual scent that identifies them. Even in the hardest rain or thickest snow, a pack member would be able to find another by smell alone. What had Nate so discombobulated here is most Werewolves don’t get a solid scent until they’re a few months old. For you to have such a defined scent already means you’re going to be very powerful, in your own right, when you mature fully.”  
  
Brad nodded slowly, as if he understood, but the question was still in his eyes. In response Nikolai held out his arm, and Brad leaned forward and sniffed. He seemed to mull the answer over in his head for a minute before he looked at Nikolai, sharp blue eyes zeroing in on the older man’s face. “You smell like pine and cold.” Nate and Nikolai shared a swift glance before both broke out into wide grins.  
  
“ _Cold Pine sap in the early evening snow.”_ Nikolai said, smiling brightly. “Very good, Brad. You’d never know you were only a day old. Try Ray. He’s a little harder to discern than I am.” Ray held out his arm helpfully and, quickly getting in a jab at Ray, he leaned forward and sniffed again. His eyes wrinkled and he sneezed loudly. Ray and the others chuckled and waited for Brad to respond.  
  
“All I can smell is dirt and....something that smells like your skin after you’ve been outside on a nice day.” Ray laughed loudly, but it was happy laugh, not a mean spirited one. Nate waited until Ray had calmed down and then motioned for him to respond.  
  
“ _Cold earth near the roots of a sun-warmed tree,”_ he said, pulling his arm back. Now both Ray and Nikolai were looking at Brad with excitement and pride in their eyes and Brad felt a rush of his own excitement. This was just the beginning of his new powers. Nikolai tapped Nate’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper something in his ear, so quietly it seemed no-one else in the room heard what they were saying.  
  
Nate held his arm out and waited while Nikolai spoke from behind his head. “Nate’s scent is very subtle and for awhile, we were unsure if he even had a scent. Let’s see how much of it you can pick up.” Brad leaned forward and sniffed. True to Nikolai’s word, he didn’t smell anything right away, so he sniffed again, this time a little longer.  
  
This time, he caught something, faint as it was, and he recognized it instantly. They’d smelt it a few times during OIF and he recognized the scent from his time in Afghanistan. “Petrichor?” He guessed, looking up at the others.  
  
Nikolai and Nate shared a swift look before Nate’s face split in a grin of pride so wide, Brad feared his face would break if he kept it up. He also took the reaction to men he’d gotten at least part of it right. Nate and Nikolai seemed to have a silent conversation with only their eyes before Nate turned back and addressed Brad.  
  
“ _Freshly fallen rain on a cool forest floor.”_  Nate said, placing his hand on Brad’s shoulder and squeezing, conveying his pride with the ease Brad was having with the exercises. “It’s a very faint scent and for you to able to pick up even the slightest hint of it so soon after the first shift is amazing.” Nate rose to his feet then and turned to look at the others fully before he spoke again.  
  
“But I think its time you rested again. You may not feel it at this very instant, but you are still weak from the transformation. Ray will watch over you for a time while I cook you something and take care of some Pack business. Then, I’ll take over for a good while. I have a feeling you’ve got some questions that you want answered.”  
  
Brad nodded and Nate smiled before leaned down and butting the side of his face against Brad’s again, grinning brilliantly when he got the same in response. Ray took his place beside the bed while the other three left the room and settled back into his pillows, using the ceaseless ramblings of Ray’s monologue to fall asleep.  
  


  
  
When Nate climbed the stairs again an hour later, balancing a bowl of stew in one hand and a bottle of apple juice and some bread in the other, he opened the door on a scene that could most certainly be qualified as comical.  
  
Ray was sprawled on the floor, Walt’s head pillowed on his chest, both sleeping soundly. Brad was laying sideways across his bed, blankets tangled in his legs, snoring loudly, one hand propped on the floor while the other rested in the small of his back. Nate blinked. That couldn’t be comfortable at all.  
  
He placed his items on the bedside table and shooed Ray and Walt from the room first, dissipating their ire at being awoken with the promise of fresh food down stairs. Once the room was clear of the two younger men, Nate gingerly moved Brad into a more natural position on the bed and then gently shook his shoulder.  
  
Brad came to with his own groan of annoyance, and for a minute he fought against Nate waking him, seeming to sink further down into sleep. Nate knew Brad had to eat now, lest he sleep through the night without food and wake the following morning with horrible hunger pains, so he shook him a little more vigorously.  
  
“Brad. Wake up. I’ve got food.” Brad swatted at him but he was awake, so he sat up carefully in the bed and looked at Nate through blurry blue eyes. Nate smiled and propped a few pillows behind Brad’s back so he could rest comfortably before he handed him the bowl of stew. Brad stared at it a minute before, wordlessly, he picked up the spoon. He seemed to mull over the first bite before nodding in approval and digging in with gusto.  
  
Nate laughed softly and took the chair, sitting quietly and letting Brad refuel in peace, handing him bread and juice when he asked. Brad finished everything within fifteen minutes, and Nate took the dirty dish and the empty bottle, setting them aside before standing up. He checked Brad’s IV, which was still miraculously in place after the bed gymnastics from earlier, and took a reading of his vital signs, nodding when everything checked out.  
  
He reached under the bed and pulled out a mini-cooler, made of the same metal as the larger one downstairs, and pulled out another bag of saline and vitamins, which he switched out with the old one. He tossed the empty on top of the bowl before sitting back down and looking at Brad with warm green eyes.  
  
“So how are you feeling right now? Any muscle aches that are really bad? Headaches?” he asked. Brad seemed to think for a minute, rolling his shoulders and wincing when he bent forward slightly. Nate figured it was a combination of the transformation and sleeping in an odd position. He reached into the cooler again and pulled out a syringe.  
  
This one was smaller than the one Nikolai had used earlier, and Brad looked at Nate questioningly. Nate decided to explain himself, hoping not to cause Brad undue stress. “Earlier, Nikolai gave you morphine. This is just a more powerful form of Tylenol. It’s just powerful enough to take away the aches and pains without knocking you flat on your ass like the morphine does when you take it.” He said, pulling the cap off the syringe and putting it into the IV port, depressing the plunger and recapping the sharp before tossing it.  
  
Nate settled back into his seat and looked at Brad. “I can only assume you’re bored out of your mind. Is there anything you want to know on besides what you’ve already learned over the past few weeks?” he asked, steepling his fingers under his chin as he sat back more comfortably.  
  
“Earlier you were talking about True Names and how Werewolves got them. How did you guys get yours?” Nate seemed to tense again before relaxing, smiling softly at some far off memory. He came back to Brad after a moment, green eyes sparkling.  
  
“Well, Ray’s is always an interesting story. When Ray was about thirty years old, human years included, we went on vacation to Missouri so he could visit his family. We checked in with the local Pack Alpha, as is common courtesy, and were just about to leave to go to his parents’ house when one of the younger wolves of the local pack was reported missing. As visitors to the state, we were obligated to offer assistance.”  
  
He shifted in his seat before continuing. “We searched well into the night for them, but it was Ray who found them. He’d wandered off on his own about half way through the search and found the younger wolf clinging to a root on a riverbank, half out of the water and about to drop off from exhaustion. Ray jumped in the water and pulled him out and then let the poor kid piggyback all the way to the camp they’d made. Twenty miles.”  
  
Nate was smiling with pride as he recounted the tale. Brad found himself wishing it were he who put the look of pride and affection on the other man’s face, and he promised to himself that one day soon it would be.  
  
“The Pack Alpha came to me a few days later and counseled with me. He was very impressed with Ray, and when I’d told him Ray’s age and that he was done with his training, he suggested it was time to give him his name. I went home and conferred with the older members of my pack as well as my Beta and they agreed. We held Ray’s Naming Ceremony a month after we came home. _Deep, Clear pond in undisturbed field._ Or just Pond. True Names are more symbolic than anything. A marker to signify that your Pack accepts you as a mature individual. When a Werewolf is banished from his pack for some reason, the Pack says the banished’s True Name and then spits on the ground before turning their back, to signify the fact that they no longer acknowledge the other’s existence.”  
  
Brad was silent a moment before he spoke again. “Is that what happened to the one that bit me? The one who turned me into a Werewolf?” he asked, voice doing nothing to cover his upset and hostility. Nate looked at him carefully for a minute. Brad would have to know about his true Forebearer eventually, in case the man ever tried to approach him, despite Nate’s order banishing him from the lands of the Ocean Freeze Pack.  
  
“Yes. As soon as I had figured out what happened, I called a conclave of the state’s Council and asked he be banished. He broke one of our cardinal rules by biting you against your will. For that, he had to be punished. It was for him as it would be for anyone who broke such a rule.” Nate’s voice brooked no argument, as if Brad could feel sympathy for the man who attacked him in the middle of the night.  
  
Brad sat silently for a while, unmoving, unanswering, and finally it seemed to Nate as if the conversation were finished, so he rose to his feet and made for the door. Brad spoke up, just as he reached it, and Nate paused.  
  
“You don’t have to tell me how, but what’s your name?” he asked, leaning back against his pillows. Nate tensed suddenly, viciously crushing the frame of the door under his hand as his fur bristled across his shoulders. Just as suddenly as he reacted, Nate calmed and removed his hand from the door, glaring at the splinters in palm.  
  
“I’ll fix that in the morning,” he mumbled, moving to shut the door behind him. He stopped moving and stood still for a moment, glancing back at Brad. The half-light of the stormy mid-afternoon shrouded his face in shadow and made his eyes glow a frightening, incandescent green, razor sharp teeth gleaming for the barest instance as he snarled.  
  
But the snarl wasn’t directed at Brad. Instead, Nate glared at the north side of bedroom where, above the mantle of the fire place, two swords crossed each other, mounted on the wall below a likewise mounted shield.  
  
Nate pulled his attention away from the wall and flicked the lights off, leaving only the argent glow of his eyes. He blinked slowly for a minute and said one thing as he turned to leave, shutting the door behind him as he went.  
  
“ _Flicker of flame’s shadow on the blood-soaked snow of a mountainside.”_  
  
 

  
The next day, Ray and Walt helped Brad get up and walk around  while Nikolai and Nate were outside battening down the house and making sure the rest of property was storm ready. Yesterday’s rain shower had been the very tip of a monster storm system heading their way. They were going to be stranded at the cabin for at least two extra days as safety officials closed back roads and warned strongly against driving in the terrible weather.  
  
Last night, after Brad had managed to get downstairs with Nikolai’s help and sat on the couch with a movie, the Werewolves had begun to work. Nikolai worked inside, making sure the electric was hooked up to the back up generators, windows were locked, and everything inside was ready. Ray took the SUV to Logan’s Point to stock up on dry goods at the local general store.  
  
Nate headed into the light rain to hunt and didn’t return until well after dusk, dragging the bodies of three large deer and several smaller animals on an improvised game sled. Upon his return he’d stowed the carcasses in the cold shed. When he’d finally come inside, Nikolai had marched him upstairs and made him shower while Walt and Ray prepped hot coffee for his return.  
  
Now, Brad watched as the older Werewolves tramped back inside, shaking the dampness from their pelts and trying to rub the mud off of their footpaws. Nikolai looked up and smiled as he and Nate moved inside and settled themselves onto the couch.  
  
“Everything’s ready to go. We’ll be fine and comfortable until the storm passes over,” he said, rubbing his hands together, the pads making a rough noise against themselves.  
  
The next few days were spent in stories and lessons, resting and playing. Nikolai taught Brad an easy way to shift back and forth until, by the morning of the second day, Brad was jumping between forms with ease. Ray taught Brad how to identify objects by scent or sound alone. Nate taught Brad how to manifest aspects of his Werewolf self while remaining human, demonstrating how Brad could use his claws and teeth without having to fully shift every time.  
  
By the time they packed up to leave a week and a half later, Brad was able to shift, scent and sound, and even run on all fours with ease. Brad and Nate drove the SUV to Brad’s place to pick up more clothes while Ray, Walt and Nikolai headed to Johnathan’s place, where the combined might of the Ocean Freeze Pack’s allies was amassing to combat the threat that was looming over them.  
  
 

  
Nate pulled the SUV up into Brad’s driveway and killed the motor, climbing out and hefting Brad’s duffel over his shoulder while the other man walked ahead a ways and unlocked the door. Both men entered the house, walking forward without bothering to turn on the lights. There was no reason.  
  
Nate handed Brad his duffel; when he headed down the hall to the bedroom to refill the bag with more clothes, Nate waited near the door, standing guard. Everything was quiet for the first few minutes, the only noise the quiet lapping of the ocean on the shore in Brad’s backyard and the sounds of the other man moving around.  
  
Nate’s attention was drawn by a snapping twig outside, and his head snapped over, his lip curling to reveal sharp teeth. Had he been shifted, his fur would have been on end. “Brad!” he whispered sharply, and he was there in seconds, blue eyes focused on Nate, taking in his apprehension.  
  
“There’s something outside. Stay here. Get the glove and the silver knives from where I told you to stow them. Lock the door behind me and do not open it unless they have the password. If I’m not back in five minutes, you call Nikolai and the police and you stay here until they get here. Understand me?”  
  
Nate’s voice brooked no argument, and Brad nodded, pulling on the thick leather gloves from his pocket and reaching into an ornate box above the mantel of the fireplace, pulling out two six-inch long daggers, made completely of silver. Nate nodded his approval and crept out the door, senses on full alert. The sound of the door locking behind him reassured him slightly. But he was still worried.  
  
A wooden door wouldn’t stand a chance against a full grown Werewolf.  
  
And that’s who they were going against. Nate could smell at least three distinct scents that didn’t belong to any member of his Pack or any of his Auxiliary wolves. They moved before he could think of a plan and he was surround on all sides. Not just three, five. Two had covered their scents, most likely by rolling in nearby plants.  
  
They surged forward at once, a team, well-trained and used to working together. Nate never stood a chance on his own. Three brought him to the ground while another held his head still in a viciously tight grip. Nate snarled and struggled, but his captors only held tighter. One clenched his hold over Nate’s wrist so tight they could hear the audible groan of bones rubbing against each other, and Nate loosed a yelp of pain. The last one was daubing liquid from a bottle on a towel and Nate’s heart sank.  
  
The last Werewolf pressed the towel over Nate’s mouth and nose and he was immediately assaulted by the sickeningly sweet scent of chloroform. He tried to struggle away from the towel, but the Werewolf held his head still, and soon his vision was swimming and he was gasping for breath, chest heaving. He was promptly dropped on the ground.  
  
The last thing he heard before he drifted away chilled him to his core.  
  
“Throw this one in his SUV’s trunk. We want the one in the house.”  
  
 

  
Nikolai was speeding. Not that he or his passengers cared much at this point. They’d been a quarter of the way to Johnathan’s house when Nikolai’s phone had rung. His caller ID had shone Brad’s name and so he picked up instantly. But instead of the younger man’s voice, he was treated to the sounds of a heated struggle.  
  
Nikolai had turned on a dime and made a beeline for Oceanside, calling for reinforcements along the way. Luckily, several of the Pack’s members had been close to Brad’s house already, and they volunteered to move on ahead. Nikolai thanked his lucky stars that they were all older, experienced wolves. One was even a medic.  
  
Now, as he pulled up to Brad’s house on the street, his heart sank. Werewolves were moving back and forth in the inky night, moving what looked like bodies out of the house. A man, dressed in a black vest with a white cross that designated him a medic, was leaning over a still form in the grass of the yard, pressing an oxygen mask to the face of his patient.  
  
A lone woman stood on the porch, directing the cleaners where the debris should go, telling the fixers where the bodies should be disposed of and most likely arranging safe transportation to a medical facility for the victim. Nikolai recognized her as one of the High Omegas, closer to himself in age than Nate.  
  
Nikolai strode up to her and gave her a blank stare, obviously demanding an explanation. She turned sad brown eyes on him. “They took Nate’s mate. Of all the baby wolves, they took his mate,” she whispered. Her gaze moved over to the spot in the yard where the medic was working over his patient, Nate, quietly. Another wolf was holding the mask steady while the medic wrapped Coban around Nate’s left wrist, an ACE bandage by her knee. Nikolai sincerely hoped that Nate’s hand wasn’t broken.  
  
“Alright. We can handle this. Tell me what happened inside,” he ordered, taking a step inside the house. On the carpet were three large blood stains surrounded by several others. Everything was a wreck. Furniture was strewn everywhere, the walls gouged with claw marks.  
  
“It seems that a force of no less than four enemy Werewolves entered the premises. We believe they purposely led Nate outside, where they overpowered and sedated him. We found him in the trunk of his SUV, a towel that stank of Chloroform next to him with his wrist and lower arm on the left side severely swollen and bruised. The medic believes that arm and wrist are fractured, most likely from being forcibly twisted during the process of subduing him. It seems that they then forced their way into the house, where Brad was. I assume that’s when he tried calling you.”  
  
She looked at the scene around her. “He didn’t go down easy though. He killed two of them, stabbed them right through the eye and majorly wounded a third. He fought hard. But I fear he sustained injury as well. From the small puddle of blood of here, the medic think a bone broke in his leg and he lay there for a while.” Nikolai nodded and turned on his heel and headed outside to where his Progeny was still lying, unconscious on the ground.  
  
He turned to the Werewolf behind him and noted with approval that it was another High Omega. “Call Johnathan and tell him to alert the Council. War has been declared. And if I know anything about my Progeny, he’ll answer that call.”  
  
 

  
Brad was cold. He was tired. He hurt. His head throbbed with intensity as he tried to resist opening his eyes. But he wasn’t given a choice. With his eyes closed, he never saw the kick coming. All he knew was blinding, white hot agony as a steel-toed boot connected with his broken leg.  
  
Brad screamed. He couldn’t help it. It hurt so bad. His eyes snapped open against his will and he instantly regretted it as searing light burned them, sending a new wave of pain crashing through him, though it paled in comparison to his leg.  
  
“Oh dear. Sorry about that. My foot slipped.”  
  
Brad looked up at the mocking voice and came face to face with a woman. She looked younger than he himself did, but Brad knew he couldn’t let the woman’s looks confuse him. She was the Pack Alpha of the group threatening Nate. He was in enemy hands.  
  
“Hmmmm. It seems you already know who I am. Pity, I always did like introducing myself to my guests, but I guess that it doesn’t really matter at this point. If you know who I am, then it is safe to assume you know why you’re here.” Brad turned his head away and didn’t answer. Instead, he took in his surroundings.  
  
He was on a bed and the only way he seemed to be restrained was the heavy metal collar around his neck. It was attached to a chain that was locked to the bed railing. How humiliating, to be collared in front of this woman.  
  
When he didn’t answer, the woman snapped again. This time, she struck out with a balled up first, making contact with his injured leg. Brad didn’t bother to try and restrain his cry of pain and he tried to curl inward against the flare of pain that started to arc up his spine. There was nerve damage to his leg, he could tell already.  
  
He was annoyed at himself for forgetting his SERE training and tried to smooth his face into a blank mask, but he failed miserably as tears came to his eyes. The woman beside him chuckled darkly and he turned his glare on her. “Oh, calm yourself. Even if you weren’t broken you couldn’t stand up to me. What are you? A week old? Didn’t your Forebearer tell you anything?”  
  


Both were temporarily distracted by a muffled boom, but the Alpha marked it off as her Pack members upstairs messing around.

  
Brad just growled at her, but the sound fell flat as he tried to draw enough breath to breath normally. The woman snorted. “I suppose perhaps not. Nate’s always tried to hide things from his Progeny that he didn’t need to tell them right off the bat. So let me clear something up for you. At this stage, not even a month old, you have almost zero control over your own emotions. Right now your magic is running rough shod on your emotions, your strength, hell even your appetite and your sleep schedule are going to be out of whack for the better part of the next few months.”  
  
Brad just shot her another glare and turned away from her, hoping that she would go away and leave him in peace. Nate had told him about that little side-effect of the transformation. He just didn’t think it was going to be this bad.  
  
Thankfully, his wish was granted when the door on the far end of the room opened up to reveal one of the Werewolves from earlier that had met his kidnappers at the door to the room where he was now. He looked at sideways at the Were before turning completely in the direction in surprise at what he saw. The Were looked panicked, fur fluffed up all along his spine and claws digging into the wood of the door.  
  
“Alpha Everhart! You’re not going to believe what’s outside!” He shouted, looking with wide frightened eyes behind him. The woman, Alpha Everhart, rose to her feet, wrath rolling off of her in waves.  
  
“I told you not to interrupt me in this room. _Ever._ I swear to god if its not Armageddon outside and you interrupted me anyway, I’ll remove your lungs with my bare claws. Now, calmly tell me what’s wrong, Omega Kemp.” She growled.  
  
“Ocean Freeze is attacking outside! They wear the colors of war and Alpha Fick looks like he’s ready to rend the entire cabin down with his own bare paws!” Kent shouted, looking wild-eyed at her. Alpha Everhart cursed a blue streak and rose to her full height, but not before shifting on the spot, tatters of her clothing raining down to the ground.  
  
“Kent, stop your panicking. They’re only fifty strong. How could they possibly take us?” At this Brad had to laugh, ignoring completely the look of utter rage that crossed Alpha Everhart’s face as she lashed out with claws and raked the skin of his chest.  Brad’s shout was still choked by hysterical laughter. Finally he reigned himself in enough to choke out the reason behind his laughter.  
  
“You think there’s only fifty out there? You dumb fucking bitch! The minute he received your threat, Nate started calling in favors and Auxiliary wolves from all over the world. You’re about to be on the receiving end of three hundred very pissed off Werewolves.” He hissed.  
  
Everhart sneered and snarled in rage and she stepped forward with barely enough time for Brad to realize what was happening before dagger sharp teeth were buried into his shoulder. Brad roared this time, anger and rage working for him. He shifted, ignoring the tightness of the collar around his neck and whipped his head to the side, sinking his own teeth into the flesh on Everhart’s head.  
  
Without a second thought he shook his head violently and, with the sound of rending flesh, ripped her ear from her head, taking a chunk of skin with it, much to his pleasure. Everhart pulled back with a terrible screech of pain, the entire side of her head dripping red with blood.  
  
Brad only had a moment to revel in his small revenge before Kent reached for the weapon at his hip and, without blinking, shot Brad in the stomach. Brad looked down at his gut, white fur bleeding to red before his very eyes, shocked. Kent didn’t spare him a second glance as he helped Everhart out of the room. He did, however, stop at the door to deliver one final parting shot at Brad.  
  
“A chunk of silver in the stomach. What a painful way to go.”  He sneered before leaving the room, Everhart in tow.  
  
 

Only hours before, Nate stood on top of a hill facing the two cabins that held his enemies and his pack members. He was ignoring the medic behind him, who was trying to convince him that battling with a fractured wrist was a terrible idea. or at least wear a splint. Nate was wearing a black stab-proof vest, something he and Johnathan had made sure to invest in for the Pack and it clashed with the light gray of his pelt.  
  
Behind him, hidden behind the hill were his force, standing in ranks. Not for the first time, Nate was glad his forces were mainly military. When he’d called for all of his forces to amass, they were there post-haste, much to his gratitude. Many were dressed the same way he was, shifted and wearing stab-proof vest.

 

Many of the older Werewolves had declined vests for the sake of their older weaponry, swords and sheilds while others still simply bore spears and staves carved of solid oak. In the trees around them were several sharp-shooters and on the hill with him and on the hill next to him were dozens of archers, bows at the ready.

  
When he was sure his sharp shooters and his archers were ready he turned to his troops and tried to give them his best smile, though it was strained. “Listen to me, Ocean Freeze, and hear what I have to say.” Everything went silent in almost an instant and Nate nodded to Johnathan beside him before stepping forward.  
  
“The minute River Sand threatened Ocean Freeze, they sealed their fate. The minute River Sand stole their first baby wolf, they numbered their days. But the minute River Sand sent goons to the house of my Progeny and attacked both he and I without provocation, they signed their own death warrants!” Below him the forces roared in agreement and Nate held up his hand for silence, which was given.  
  
“River Sand has made the mistake of messing with the wrong people. And its going to be our honor to show them why!” Another cheer went up and Nate nodded. “You all know the plan, which is very simple. Team Falcon will circle behind and cut off their retreat. Teams Sparrow and Bluejay will cut them off from the sides. Team Hawk will provide covering fire. Team Swift will lead the frontal  assault and I will personally lead team Eagle into the building to collect our missing baby wolves. Are there any questions?” He asked, crossing his arms over his vest.  
  
When none were forthcoming, he simply nodded and, with a flick of both hands from his chest, the forces were gone or falling into position behind him. Team Eagle, headed by himself, was an odd mix of medics and warriors, all armed to the teeth and all carrying medical supplies and they rallied behind him. Nate picked up the walkie-talkie from by his foot paw and hit the button before speaking into it.  
  
“This Wild Eagle, Are you in position, Falcon?”  
  
“ _This is Falcon, Wild Eagle, We are good to go. I repeat, Falcon is good to go.”_  
  
Nate performed the ready checks withe rest of the teams before he steeled himself and gave the all clear.

 

“All teams this is Wild Eagle. Operation Free Bird is a go. I repeat, operation Free Bird is go.” He said, voice tight. There was silence for a minute before two Werewolves crept out from below where he and his team were stationed, both carrying packs that Nate knew to be stuffed with explosives.

 

After all, what better way to get someone's attention then blowing stuff up?  
  
 _“Swift to Wild Eagle. The pigeons have dropped the package. I repeat, the pigeons have dropped the package.”_

“Wild Eagle copies, Swift. Everyone, duck and cover.” He ordered and flipped the switch in his hand, which set off the explosions below. Nate steadied himself as the ground rocked beneath his feet and his forces milled around him silently, waiting for the order.

 

They didn't have to wait long. Almost immediately after the explosion, dozens of Werewolves rushed into the front and Nate raised his arm in the air. Beside him, the archers and sharp-shooters readied bows and rifles, sighting in on the targets.

 

Nate brought his arm down and all broke loose.

 

Nate waited until the other teams had boxed in the opposing Werewolves before he led his team down into the valley. They danced their way through the battles raging around them, he and the warrior escorts pausing just long enough to end the lives of those who tried to stop them from making their way inside.

 

The cabin inside was deserted. There were only a few, motionless bodies, most likely from Weres who'd tried to crawl inside after being shot. The warrior escorts boxed around the medics protectively and Nate led the way. Luckily, they'd entered the building with basement, which was where the missing baby wolves were supposed to be held.

 

They made their way, unopposed to the top of the stair case and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. Down these stairs were his missing pack mates. Nate made a motion with his hand and a few of the warrior escort came to stand next to him and together, they cleared the stair way.

 

Only to come face to face with Alpha Everhart and another Werewolf at the bottom of the steps.

 

Both parties stared at each other for a minute before rage filled Nate and he struck out, locking up with the other werewolf and tumbling to the ground. She fought back with equal fervor, razor claws sinking into the meat of his shoulder and tearing. Nate roared in anger and, seeing the missing ear, snapped his jaws on the already injured flesh, reveling in her cry of agony.

 

There was the crack of a gunshot behind them but neither noticed as Everhart rolled them straight into a wall, Nate still balanced on top, though he was quickly kangaroo-kicked off, skidding down the hall a few feet. Both were up and charging again, the sound of their impacting bodies thunderous in the small hallway and Nate snarled in pain as Everhart dug teeth into his already fractured hand.

 

He resisted the urge to crumble under the pain and briefly looked behind him. “Find them! I got this covered.” He ordered and, after a mere moment's hesitation, the others left into the basement. Nate turned back to the task at hand and stomped forcefully on his opponent’s foot, smiling cruelly at the crack of bone he heard.

 

They broke apart in a flurry of fur and claws and glared at each other. “We could have been great, Nathaniel. All you had to do was join me, and we could have ruled all of California, Oregon and Washington! Don't you strive for power!?” She shouted at him and Nate curled his lip in disgust.

 

“No. I'm not like you, Julia. I strive for peace for my Pack. You should have know Ocean Freeze would never join up with you. You're a fool for even dreaming it.” He didn't get a chance to finish the rest of his speech as she darted forward with speed that he could barely track and sank claws and teeth into his chest.

 

He gave a shout of fury and pain, but this put her in the perfect position for what he had planned. He grabbed the back of her neck, over the spine, in one massive clawed hand and spoke. “You have been found guilty by War Tribunal of Treason, Kidnapping and Illegal Overthrow of another pack. Your sentence...” He squeezed his hand viciously and her cry was cut off as her spine exploded under his strength and her lifeless body fell to the floor. “Your sentence is Death.”

 

He stared at the body of his opponent for a minute before turning on his heel and ignoring his own wounds as he entered the basement. The cement room was a bustle of activity as medics worked over the ten wolves. The room itself had been converted in to a temporary medical bay and even now Weres from the battles upstairs were coming in.

 

Nate checked with each one personally, especially the ones who'd been kidnapped, waving off their concern for his wounds and telling them to worry about getting better themselves. At last he came to a bed at the end of the bunker like room and he froze.

 

Medics were working over a pale, lifeless, blood spattered body that Nate instantly recognized. It was Brad. Nate took a hesitant step forward, but was immediately accosted by Nikolai, Ray and two medics. However, this allowed him an unobstructed view.

 

Arctic blue eyes were dull and the pale chest barely moved. Blood coated the skin of his abdomen and he could see the hole where the bullet had entered. Nate didn't have the will power to look further and, in a moment of humanity, the stress of his battle, his wounds and the sheer _terror_ that he may lose the man he cared for, no, loved, may be lost to him before he could even tell him overcame his worn body.

 

The last thing he remembered as blackness came crashing down around his ears was Nikolai and Ray, shouting his name and then all he knew was sleep.

 

 

Brad was the first to awaken after the ordeal, which was surprising to the doctors that were working around him.

 

His first instinct was to lash out, bright lights rendering him blind for a moment. Strong hands and a familiar voice brought him out of his stupor and he stilled, blurry eyes looking up at the man in front of him. Nikolai was holding Brad pinned to the bed gently, talking to him in a soft, soothing voice and Brad let himself be carried by it until he slumped against the bed, pain radiating from his wounds.

 

“Welcome back.” Nikolai said warmly, though his oaken brown fur was fluffed from Brad's awakening moments before and his eyes betrayed exhaustion. “You gave us quite a scare, I hope you know.”  Nikolai removed his hands and pulled the blanket up over Brad's shoulder properly, giving the young man a chance to see that his entire upper body and right arm were swathed in bandages.

 

“Where am I?” He croaked, voice rough and Nikolai held a cup of water with a straw out to him so he could drink. Once he'd gotten his fill he settled back further against the pillows of his bed and waited for the coming explanation.

 

“You're in a private hospital run by one of the friends of the Pack. You and anyone else who was injured were brought here after the fighting ended at the hideout of the River Sand Pack. You've been sleeping for about five days. You didn't need surgery to remove the bullet from your gut, but the doctors figured you might have silver poisoning and sleep for a while. Apparently he was right.” Nikolai chuckled.

 

He was interrupted as another doctor entered the room, his face opening in a smile as he took in Brad, conscious, on his bed. “Ahh! He's awake! That's wonderful. I'm Dr. McKnight, Brad. How are you feeling?” The man said warmly.

 

“Like hell.” He rasped in response and the doctor nodded. He reached into a chest underneath the monitors that were charting Brad's vitals and pulled out a syringe. He uncapped it and emptied it into the IV line before recapping the syringe and disposing of it in the bin.

 

“A little pain medicine to take the edge off. I won't give you the heavy duty stuff until lunch, when the nurse gives you your next dose of Morphine.” He said,, picking up the chart at the foot of Brad's bed and paging through it quickly.

 

  
“Alright Brad. Let's go over your injuries. Multiple lacerations to the chest, a deep bite wound to the right shoulder, GSW to the stomach, bruising around your neck and your tibia and fibula are both broken. So, We already have you in a cast and everything else is stitched and bandaged up. At your age with the healing rate of a baby wolf, you'll be up and going again in a month and maybe three weeks, all told.”

 

Brad nodded and leaned back into his pillows, content to take a nap, when he noticed someone important was missing from the room. “Where's Nate?” he asked, sitting up in the bed before wincing in pain and gasping sharply. Okay, sitting up was not a good idea. No one answered him and Brad felt ice forming in his chest. “Where's Nate?” he asked again, voice steely.

 

Dr. McKnight could already see where this was going and he sighed heavily, ducking out of the room to call for a wheelchair. Maybe Brad and Nate didn't know it yet, but the bond between them was strong enough that he could sense it. The nurse returned with the chair and, with the help of Nikolai and Ray, they got Brad into the chair and Dr. McKnight walked him down the hall to another suite.

 

Another nurse was just coming out of the room and she shook her head at the doctor, who sighed before pushing the door open and pushing the chair inside. He felt his patient tense in the chair as he pushed him level with the bed.

 

Nate looked small and pitiful where he lay in the bed, wrapped in bandages and blankets. The doctor pulled back and reached for the chart at the foot of Nate's bed, flipping the page up before reading aloud. “Fractured wrist, which became exacerbated during his fight with Alpha Everhart, concussion from impact with a hard surface, most likely a wall or the floor, lacerations to the chest and shoulder, bite marks to the chest and previously mention wrists and major blood loss. He should have woken up after we gave him the transfusion of new blood but he still sleeps. Maybe if you talk to him, knowing you're alive and mostly well will give him a reason to wake up.”

 

Dr. McKnight replaced the chart on the foot of the bed and made his way to the door. “I'll leave you two alone for a while.” He said before walking out of the room. Brad sat silently in the wheelchair, shivering from the sight of Nate, laid out like this. Brad lifted the hand without the IV in it and placed it on Nate's elbow, below the cast.

 

“Hi, Nate. It's, uh, it's Brad. We're both in the hospital this time so you can't get mad at me for being reckless.” He tried to joke, but it sounded wrong even to his own ears and he fell silent in the chair. He sat like that for a while and, after about twenty minutes, spoke again.

 

“This wasn't how this was supposed to happen.” He started, voice thick with emotion. “Granted, I knew we'd get to fight someone someday but....this wasn't supposed to be the outcome. You're supposed to be the knight in shining armor. The perfect man who helped all of his Packmates win the battle. And now you're all beat up and you won't even open your eyes and look at me.” He sniffled and cursed himself as tears burned at the corners of his eyes.

 

“You can't sleep forever, you know.” He said, trying to sound angry, but it was ruined when the tears started to fall and he dropped all pretenses. “Nate you have to wake up. Wake up and yell at Walt and Ray for fighting over pointless shit again. Wake up and steal all of Nikolai's Jello. Wake up so you and Johnathan can have stupid nerdy arguments at four in the morning! Wake up so I can tell you I love you, you stupid bastard!” He cried, resting his head on the sheets next to Nate's body.

 

“L-love you t-too, sweetheart.” A voice choked from the bed and Brad's head shot up and he was staring face to face with a pair of tired green eyes. Brad sniffled, which was essentially his version of sobbing for joy, and buried his face in Nate's neck.

 

Nate patted the back of his head, which was made awkward by the fact that his good hand was on the opposite side and grinned softly. “Say it again.” He rasped. Brad was unsure what he meant for a minute before smiling against the skin of Nate's neck.

 

“I. Love. You.” He whispered, trying to put all of his emotion into it and Nate returned the sentiment by whispering it back to him. Brad simply sat there for a minute before something became blaringly obvious to him.

 

“I may love you, Nathaniel Fick, but if you ever call me “sweetheart” again, I'll skin you alive.” he growled.

 

Nate's laughter could be heard throughout the hallway.

 

**END**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Werewolf Big Bang 2012 - Art by evian-fork:
> 
>  
> 
> [Here](http://evian-fork.livejournal.com/96125.html#cutid1)
> 
> A special thanks to my Betas, asimplechord and AramaniPantera on Livejournal for their awesome skills in grammar and cheerleading. And a thousand thanks to evian_fork, for seemingly pulling fantastic art out of nowhere. Without these three, I most likely would have bashed my head into my desk long before this was finished.


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